


Nefarious

by crime_to_kill_a_mockingbird



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Frustrated Sansa, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mysterious Petyr, Slow Burn, So much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 82,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crime_to_kill_a_mockingbird/pseuds/crime_to_kill_a_mockingbird
Summary: Cersei arranges a marriage between Lord Petyr Baelish and Lady Sansa Stark, two people she needs rid of from King's Landing. She had many plans for Sansa, yes, but the thought of forcing her into a lovelss marriage with a brothel keeper (who was surely looking forward to making the young red head his own personal whore), sounded bad enough to satisfy the Queen Regent.Sansa tries to make the best of the pairing and goes to lengths to make her husband happy, seemingly to no avail.





	1. Not Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Nefarious- wicked, villainous, despicable.

"My Queen Regent…" Petyr bows low, and feels the eyes of the small council on him as he does.

Cersei had called on him. Well, she had called on all of the small council, but as everyone got seated she had commanded Petyr to step forward. He had done so without pause, though he found himself having to mask the curiosity that suddenly crossed his features.

She stood a few feet away from him and the table with the rest of the small council and her hands clasped in front of herself, practically mimicking his stance. He didn't back down, instead, held his chin higher. The lion was proud, he knew that all too well, and he loved to hear them growl when challenged. Her long golden hair was done up in an intricate braid around her hair, almost representing a crown if you looked hard enough; Petyr, of course, had looked hard enough. Her gown was red, almost a violent shade of crimson that made his head ache a little in the early hours of such a bright and sunny morning.

"Lord Baelish." She greeted in return, almost bored as she turned her nose up in obvious distaste. He straightened his spine. "I have a proposition for you."

This peaked his interest. The Queen Regent had a plan for  _ him? _ Do tell. Petyr bit back a smirk as he thought  _ 'let the chaos unravel'. _

Though it was he that was centered in the chaos today: "Do you remember your offer to marry the eldest Stark girl a couple years past?"

He blinked, once… twice. He nodded, swallowing thickly. "Of course, your grace." He managed to form the words from sheer muscle memory. The thin lipped smile-smirk she awarded him with upon hearing his response was eerie enough but matched with the red of her lipstick and the piercingly  _ cold _ blue of her eyes… Petyr felt his throat tighten uneasily. "Though," he carried on. "I seem to recall you rejecting the idea before the words even left my lips, my Queen Regent."

"Yes, well… those were different times, back when we had a use for her." She paused, using her height advantage to lean closer threateningly. "Now that she's been tossed aside by Joffrey and my father's plan to marry her to my wretched little monster of a brother, fell through… any plan that I had for her seems like a waste." She looked down at her sleeves and toyed with them to feign nonchalance. As if she were bored of the conversation. "Her name has been dragged through the mud. Her home is practically non recognizable. Her family is dead and I fear I've no one left in the realm that would gladly marry her. I could send her to be a bed slave, sure, but what do I gain?"

_ So what did she want, then? _ She looked at this as a gift for him… one that he'd sirely have to pay for one way or another. Petyr stayed silent as she talked on.

"But  _ you _ , Lord Baelish… Master of Coin, Lord of Harrenhal and whore monger…" Her lips curled at the last title and Petyr wanted to smirk.  _ So she thinks I'd make her my own personal whore, is that it?  _ Why sell her into slavery and get hardly anything in return when a rich Lord will pay a high price to make her the very same thing… only a private whore. Well, she'd be wrong. Petyr didn't want whores. Whores made him money but he'd never slept with one… what's the point of paying for someone to pretend to enjoy you? If he was to have that sweet auburn haired wolf… it wouldn't be that way.

"-you wanted  _ oh so badly _ to marry the young girl earlier. I assumed, if I did this favor for you, that perhaps you'd do one for me?" She finished and Petyr ground his teeth.

"Anything you want, your grace. Though I must confess… it may not have been one of my more intelligent moves as to ask for her hand before. She is quite young and surely would not be pleased with the match." He replied in an attempt to twist it back around. Cersei scowled.

"This is a gift, Lord Baelish, I expected you to be grateful. You get to wed and bed the lovely Sansa Stark… whom I believe holds a similar resemblance to the woman you once loved." She snapped back, tone biting and cold. Petyr knew she was trying to embarrass him… stifle him. He would not give in. "And I'm  _ sure _ , Lord Baelish, as a brothel owner, you have enough experience to make her  _ pleased _ with the match."

His tongue lashed back before his brain could edit through the response. "No insecurities there, your grace, I assure you. Lady Sansa's transition into womanhood will be one that not her nor the rest of the red keep will soon forget."

He heard a snicker of laughter from Bronn and even Cersei looked pleased with this response… surely excited for Sansa's innocence to be obliterated completely. "Good. And in exchange, all I ask is for you to take her away." He frowned slightly in confusion. "Surely Harrenhal will do? I have someone else that I trust whom will take over your position as Master of Coin and I assume your establishment's can run themselves with your permanent absence. You see… things are changing here in King's Landing and I don't want her to be my problem anymore. I want her gone. You as well, if I'm being frank." She paused. "And besides, I think what's waiting for Sansa at Harrenhal will be even better than her long lasting misery here."

Petyr swallowed thickly. Take her away and give up his position and all that he's worked for? He's rich beyond concern, so at least money wasn't an issue. Though, by the sound of her reply, it seemed that whatever she had planned for sweet Sansa once they arrive at Harrenhal, it would be worse than anything she suffers here.

Petyr quickly started making his own plans.

"Your Grace, you honour me beyond words. I would love to wed the sweet Sansa Stark of Winterfell. When shall the wedding take place?"

.

_ Soon, _ apparently. A week, which was hardly enough time to get an outfit together.

And, one more thing she forgot to mention, it seemed  _ he  _ was the one expected to tell her.

He was walking through the gardens, knowing full well where her favourite place to think was:  _ hide _ , more like.

Two years ago when he offered to take her hand, he thought it would work in his plans and benefit his position…  _ Plus _ he found her gorgeous and the thought of corrupting Eddard and Catelyn's little girl was too sweet to pass up. It was his own form of revenge to the people who'd done him wrong.  _ But now _ …. Now he'd lose the position and power that he'd worked for. It was like a banishment. And on top of that, even though he didn't consider her an embarrassment in the slightest… the rest of Westeros would. It was supposed to be a slight against him, to ruin his reputation. And if he got her pregnant… how hated would that child be? Two 'dirty' blood lines in one human being.

However, he couldn't lie that the idea of being with Sansa…  _ bedding _ her, was a secret desire that he'd pushed down long ago. She had the Tully look, but was somehow more beautiful than Cat ever was. When he first use to look at Sansa all he'd see was her mother and it use to set his teeth and make him irritated beyond rationality. Cat had destroyed the goodness and innocence within him and she had single handedly created Littlefinger. Though now when he set his eyes on the young auburn haired wolf, all he'd see is her. She was far more clever than Cat and strong, too. She figured out quickly how to  _ pretend _ in order to live in King's Landing and although he could see straight through every tearful lie she created… he wanted to applaud her on her performance, for she had fooled nearly everyone else.

He approached her turned back cautiously as she looked out at the few ships in the wave less water. She was by herself and as he watched he noticed her attention was set more to the right, where one small ship was docked alone. It was his.

"She may not be the grandest ship, or the fastest, but she's mine." He said as a greeting, hands clasped in front of him as he watched her. Her head spun around as he started speaking and he took a moment to admire the peaceful look on her face. She smiled.

"Lord Baelish." She greeted in return and he stepped a little closer, gesturing for her to sit and she did. He followed her actions and turned his body to face her.

"How are you, Sansa, truly?" He asked, tone serious. She looked down for a second before meeting his eyes again.

"Better." Was all she offered in reply.

"Do you still want to leave?" He asked and her eyes lit up.

"Go home?" She asked in excitement and it just about crushed him to know he was about to watch that disappear.

"Unfortunately, Sansa… no. But I will take you away from here." He paused, gauging her reaction. She tried to hide her disappointment but he could still see it there, swirling around those blue eyes of hers. He knew she'd been interested in Loras Tyrell and the thought of leaving her chances with him behind probably made her rethink.

"Well, Lord Baelish, I must tell you…" She began, as if reading his mind. "Queen Margaery has been trying to convince King Joffrey to wed Ser Loras and I, so I think that maybe I should stay."

He pursed his lips, not knowing how to tell her the next part, so he decided on letting her down easy where Loras was involved first. "As a brothel keeper, Lady Sansa, I think you should know that you aren't exactly Ser Loras' type." She frowned slightly when he said this, looking a little offended. "Not that you aren't a sight, my lady, but Ser Loras seeks the attention of men, I'm afraid."

He was a little thrilled to see her blush slightly at his comment before disappointment once again filled her expression. "I see." She said quietly.

They didn't speak for a long, pregnant pause until Petyr took a deep breath and prepared himself for the reaction he expected. He took her hand in his gently to catch her attention. "Lady Sansa… The Queen Regent called on me this morning and  _ offered _ me a proposition." He started, accentuating 'offered' so she'd understand that it was a command and not a choice. She nodded, her hand politely squeezing his in return. "You and I are to wed, Sansa."

Her hand stilled and she blinked the earlier polite expression from her eyes. She was surprised and confused and Petyr looked away before he watched the disgust and fear cross her face. She pulled her hand away and placed in her lap instead.

"I don't understand, my lord." She said quietly and he looked back at her, hand stroking anxiously through his goatee. He straightened his spine.

"She wishes us to leave King's Landing sometime after we wed. We'd go to Harrenhal to live out our days." He added, hoping the prospect of finally leaving the Capitol would cheer her up a little. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"But you're… so much older than me. And she thinks of me as no good for anyone, traitors blood, so why would she give me to a wealthy lord?" She asked and he sighed deeply, knowing she wouldn't be happy with the arrangement. Of course she wouldn't look at him like that.

"Couples with far larger age gaps have married before." He stated and she twisted her mouth awkwardly. "And I'm sure you know of my reputation, Sansa. It's not like I'm exactly respected here. And it would seem she has reason to want rid of me, as well as you."

She was biting on her bottom lip, not knowing what to say and so he carried on. "Listen, sweetling…" he started. "I know that this news doesn't please you, but-"

This seemed to snap her back from her thoughts and into reality. Back to pretending. "No, my lord, I apologize for making you think that. Of course this news pleases me." She corrected immediately and he half smiled, a little bitterly.

"Well, the wedding is next week. I will send you whatever you desire until then, just let me know." He stood and she copied his actions. His voice was a little dull, knowing how upset she was at the arrangement… though he, of course, was expecting no less. "Until then," he claimed her hand once more and left a chaste kiss across her knuckles. He leaned in closer to her in order to discreetly whisper  _ "I am sorry, Sansa." _ Before pulling away and leaving her to her thoughts.

.

_ Sansa: _

Lord  _ Petyr Baelish _ !? He hasn't a single friend in all of King's Landing for a reason… he only cares for himself and his own personal gain. He betrays people and lies constantly. And now he's to be her  _ husband _ . Not to mention the fact that he's almost old enough to be her father!

Her heart ached a little at the thought of her father.

And now she was to leave the few people she found she could trust… Shae and Margaery. She would be all alone again. She would be his  _ wife. _

A chill crept down her spine at the thought of their wedding night. He would take her maidenhead. She may eventually be the mother of his child. She wanted to gag.

Not that he hasn't always been kind to her… but he was  _ so much older _ and unfortunately… she  _ did _ know of his reputation. What kind of person decides to be a whore monger? How disgusting he must be. But  _ oh! _ What if he wants her to act like a whore? What if he treats her like one? Surely if he's gross enough to own businesses like that, he'll enjoy unconventional things in bed. Sansa wanted to puke. This was her own personal nightmare.

Shae had been outraged by the news and the two girls had fumed about it for hours on end the first night, trying to make some kind of plan, but to no end. Margaery was upset when she learned that Sansa would be leaving, as well as concerned for her well being. Margaery, Sansa and Olenna had spent the second night together enjoying each other's company before saying their goodbyes and well wishes. On the third night, Sansa was surprised to find baskets upon baskets of expensive fabrics arrive at her chamber's. A small note from her intended telling her to use as much as she wished. She got a visit from King Joffrey on the fourth evening, him making joke after joke about Lord Baelish's  _ littlefinger  _ before declaring that as the father of the realm, he'd be walking her down the aisle.

When the day arrived she got increasingly nervous while she got ready. The idea that she'd no longer be a maiden after today made her skin a sickly pale white. She didn't want him to be her first. She didn't want any of this.

Shae gave her a hug before she left her room and Sansa held back tears as she approached the throne room. She held on desperately tight to the cloak wrapped around her, the one with her family's sigil. She wouldn't be a  _ Stark _ anymore. She felt her eyes sting with unshed tears.

Joffrey came to stand beside her and she wordlessly took his arm. He was saying something, teasingly or cruel, but Sansa couldn't hear him.

The doors swung open and she had to remind herself to breath at the sight of all the people. Joffrey started forwards, dragging her along with him. The event was a blur to Sansa, as she could only hear the wild thumping of her own irregular heart beat. As she squared her shoulders and held her chin high, she caught sight of her fiance across the room. He was in a black doublet with a high collar adorned with silver mockingbirds. His hair was neatly combed and facial hair trimmed to perfection, though it wasn't a huge change from his normal appearance. He didn't smile as she approached, his expression straight and almost blank. Was he even human?

Joffrey kissed her cheek before leaving her to stand at the side, a shit eating grin on his face. Petyr offered her his hand and helped her up the few stairs before letting go again.

He offered her the smallest of smiles which she could only accept as for reassurance. She did not return the gesture and instead, focused on holding back both her tears and the bile rising in her throat.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

Petyr stepped forwards and she slowly spun around. He removed her of her cloak and replaced it with a lighter one, made of silk. She turned around again, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding in… feeling a pang of loss from the cloak.

"Your Grace, my Lords, my Ladies, we stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of Lord Petyr from house Baelish and Lady Sansa from house Stark. We shall bind them as one." With this, Petyr turned his back to the audience and Sansa hastily copied him. He placed his hand out between them, palm up, and she placed hers atop his. He laced their fingers together and something deep within Sanda stirred at the action. His hands were soft and warm. Ribbon was tied around their hands and words were being said but she couldn't hear them anymore. Her heart was pounding, but she knew she'd be thoroughly embarrassed if she missed a cue so she forced herself to listen, just in time, too. "You may look upon one another and say the sacred vows."

They turned, hands still bound together, and said in synch: "Father, smith, warrior…" "mother, maiden, crow…"

"I am his and he is mine."

"I am hers and she is mine."

There was an awkward moment of silence and for a second she thought she was supposed to say something, but Petyr squeezed her hand gently and she relaxed.

"And you shall bind this love and union with a kiss."

_ How could she forget about that!? _

The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly in amusement as he sensed her distress. The ribbon was pulled away from their hands but Petyr didn't let go. He took a step forward and his other hand went to cup her cheek. He caressed her skin with his thumb sweetly and leaned closer to peck her lips softly with his. It was a brush that was barely present but her stomach fluttered no less. She was flustered as he pulled away, wondering why her body had reacted that way. He smiled at her and she wondered if perhaps there was something genuine there. That's when she noticed how green his eyes were.

There was cheering but she couldn't hear any of it. He kept their hands intertwined together as they walked together out to the gardens where a feast was to be held. They sat together at the end of a long table and waited in mostly silence until the food was served. Sansa picked at her food, barely eating, where as Petyr finished his plate with seemingly no trouble.

"Wine, my lady?" He asked and she was about to refuse until she remembered what would happen later in the night, so she nodded. He poured her a generous glass and she drank it back rather quickly. He smirked when she did.

When desert was served, Sansa was pleasantly surprised to see the three lemon cakes placed in front of her. She looked up at Petyr's amused expression, raising her eyebrows in question.

"I heard they're your favourite." Was his reply and she smiled a little. "I also heard you liked your stitching, which is why I sent all those fabrics. Did you make anything?"

Sansa was curious as to why he cared about these things enough to actually inquire about them, but she answered anyways. "I did, yes. Thank you for that, it was very kind of you."

He nodded. "I figured you could've used the distraction." He told her, leaning back in his chair to analyze her. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"Thank you." She repeated quietly. He just stared at her for a long moment after that, his gaze intense and goosebumps pricked her skin.

"You look stunning, by the way." He said suddenly and she felt her cheeks flame. She looked down at the lemon cakes and then back up at him. He was smirking now.

"You look nice, too." She replied and his smirk broadened. She wasn't lying… he looked very sharp and put together. She had never found him to be all that handsome before, but sitting here looking at him now she supposed he had his own kind of roguish charm. She definitely didn't think he was unattractive. Rather the opposite now, with his intense green eyes that seemed to see right through her and his sharp, defined features. She even realized she liked the look of his silver temples… they suited him.

People started to stand around the dance floor as the music began to slow. Sansa got a little anxious again as she looked over at Petyr who simply smiled at her and stood, adjusting his clothing and turning to her as he offered his hand. "May I have this dance, lady Baelish?"

She blinked in surprise at the title; it was the first time someone had called her that. She still didn't like, hated in fact, that she was no longer a stark… but at least she wasn't lady  _ Lannister _ or  _ Baratheon. _ She allowed a small smile to surface as she placed her hand in his and stood. "Of course my lord husband." She replied, trying out the name. The side of his mouth turned up for a moment and she thought it was the most genuine smile she'd ever seen from him.

They walked together to the center of the dance floor and Sansa felt nervous with all the eyes watching her. She hoped he was an adequate dancer.

His arm wrapped around her waist to settle on the small of her back and her hand rested on his shoulder in turn. He took her right hand in his left and their eyes met. "Relax." He breathed and she let her shoulders untense before he took the first step.

Sansa was very pleasantly surprised at his dancing skills. He was elegant and in turn made her feel graceful. He spun her around multiple times and received a few claps from the people watching them. She hadn't realized how much she was genuinely enjoying herself until the song ended and Joffrey stepped forward to ask for her hand. Petyr must have seen how she tensed, for the arm wrapped around her squeezed protectively, or reassuringly, she wasn't sure, before he bent down to kiss her cheek in farewell.

Her skin tingled from where his lips had been and she felt deflated when he walked away and she was left in the presence of Joffrey. He smiled slyly at her and grabbed at her waist possessively, unlike the soft grasp of Petyr's hands. Joffrey didn't even compare to the dancing skills of her husband. He leaned in close and took a deep breath through his nose.

"You smell nice." He commented, though it wasn't meant to be a genuine compliment. She clenched her jaw.

"Thank you, your grace." She replied tight-lipped. He miss-stepped and their bodies collided awkwardly.

"You must be looking forward to the dance coming to an end." He said and Sansa frowned slightly in confusion, so he elaborated. "The bedding ceremony!" He smirked, eyes lighting up. Sansa's eyes widened. She hadn't thought they would do the bedding ceremony. "I'm  _ so  _ excited to strip you naked in front of as many men that want to see as possible. And perhaps… if your husband takes too long, I might explore your body a little myself."

Sansa wanted to shrink or run or cry or do anything but keep dancing with such a sadistic bastard. But then she remembered the cause of all her anxieties… the wedding. "No." She said sternly and he frowned.

"No?" He asked, looking offended.

"No. I'm not your plaything to torment anymore. I don't belong to you, I belong to my husband and soon enough we won't even be in King's Landing anymore." She bit back at him and his eyes widened in surprise.

" _ What!?" _ He snapped. "Mother's letting you go?" Sansa nodded, eyebrow raised challengingly. He grumbled something under his breath before squeezing her hip almost painfully hard.  _ "You listen here, you little whore."  _ He hissed and Sansa tried to ignore the pain his grip was causing. They had stopped dancing and people were beginning to notice.  _ "You are mine and you will always be mine. I can do whatever I want with you, it doesn't matter that you're married. Your brothel keeper husband would let me have you any day I wish." _

Sansa did wince now, cursing herself for it immediately as she knows how much he enjoys pain, but his nails were digging through the fabric of her dress. She opened her mouth to respond but an arm wrapped around her to settle on the hip that Sansa knew was bruised, his hand pushing Joffrey's away. Sansa looked up in relief to see Petyr.

"I think I can take it from here, your grace. I'd like another dance with my bride." He said with no room for argument and Joffrey seethed, but only sent a glare her way before walking away. Sansa sighed in relief. "Are you okay?" Petyr asked, turning to face her, his hand stroking her hip soothingly. She nodded.

A new song started playing, faster than the first one they danced to, and he started a quick paced waltz. This time she had trouble keeping up because of how foggy her brain now seemed. "My lady, what's troubling you?" She was snapped back to reality by his calming voice and she blinked the thoughts from her eyes.

"The bedding ceremony." She admitted and he pursed his lips in thought. "Joffrey said he'd…"

"He can't do anything to you anymore." Petyr immediately cut her off. "I won't allow it." He finished and she felt grateful for this piece of information. "And as for the ceremony… I'm not sure I can stop it from happening but perhaps I can dial it down a bit."

Sansa smiled slightly, stepping the tiniest bit closer to him as they danced. "Thank you my lord." He nodded in reply and it wasn't long after that Joffrey initiated the ceremony.

"If my wife is in anything less than her shift by the time I get to her, you will make an enemy of me." Petyr announced to the room before a group of men carried Sansa away.

Sansa was frightened in all honesty, but Petyr's threat was effective and even Joffrey left her alone in her thin white shift. She still had parts of her gown on as all the lacing was so intricate, but the main parts were off of her. She still didn't feel comfortable with all those men staring and grabbing at her body but it was far cleaner than it would have been.

She was curled up on an armchair when he walked in. His doublet was fully undone as well as the tunic beneath it, exposing his chest and stomach. The laces of his breeches were loose from some woman pulling on them, but Sansa's eyes couldn't leave the giant scar that cut down his midsection. She was too shy at the moment to ask about it, but he noticed her looking and quickly crossed the room to fix his clothing. He stripped himself fully on the top half and Sansa shyly explored the planes of his bare back with her eyes. He was thin and not bulging with muscle like a knight would be, but he was still muscular for a man and his skin was pale but not sickly so. She thought he had a rather nice back. He pulled a loose white cotton shirt over top and pulled tiredly at the lacing on the front before deciding to leave it loose and open. Then his hands went to the front of his breeches and Sansa felt her heart race, though he only fixed the lacing and pulled it tighter before finally turning to her.

"Are you cold, my lady wife?" He asked and she looked over to the fire. She wasn't necessarily cold but a fire sounded nice, so she nodded. He lit the fire in his first few tries and came over to sit in the chair beside hers. "How are you?" He asked and she twisted her mouth awkwardly, wondering when they were going to just get this over with.

"Fine, my lord." She replied in a small voice as she looked down at the fire. She could feel his eyes on her.

"This will be our room from now until we leave." He informed her and she looked around. It was rather large and luxurious, which wasn't a surprise as the room is his. There was a small solar attached that Sansa could see from where she sat and a generously sized four poster bed on the other side of the room. He saw her eyeing it and cleared his throat. "How old are you?" He asked and she bit down on her lip.

"Seventeen." She replied, feeling her stomach twisting around anxiously in preparation.

He was quiet for a long moment. "We're expected to consummate the marriage." He blurted out and she looked down at the ground again. "If word gets out that we didn't, I'm afraid it would be a lot of trouble."

Sansa swallowed thickly and nodded, gathering all her courage before standing and walking over to the bed. She stood with her back turned to him and began unlacing the sleeves of her dress that were forgotten in the bedding ceremony. She pulled them both off before reaching down to pull off her shoes and standing again. She took another deep, shaky breath before beginning to push her shift from her shoulders. Then she felt his presence close behind her, not even having heard him stand. She paused when his warm hand rested atop her shoulder. She was shaking and she knew it. He slowly spun her around to face him but when she wouldn't meet his eyes, his index finger went beneath her chin to urge her face upwards.

He shook his head. "Not tonight." Was the only explanation he offered before moving around to the other side of the bed and climbing in. Sansa was beyond confused but followed his lead and climbed into the bed as well. Still, she waited.

But he didn't say another word and his hands never reached for her and soon enough she heard his breathing even out and had to only assume he was asleep. She let out a sigh of relief and closed her own eyes for the night.


	2. But why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning following Sansa's wedding has her beyond confused and assuming the worst. She also discovers the power she can hold over certain people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm addicted to writing this story. More to come.

When she woke the following morning, her eyes immediately found him. He was still asleep and facing her direction. She took a moment to analyze him.

He looked so peaceful like this, a stark difference from any other way she'd seen him before: calculating and reserved and… even dangerous.

She had an odd urge to suddenly touch her hand to his face to feel across the stubble outlining his jaw line, but she refrained. How would she explain such a thing if he woke?

Soon enough his brow creased slightly and he shifted. She had the feeling he was stirring so she closed her eyes to pretend to sleep. It was long moments of complete silence before she heard anything else. It was a shift on the bed… closer to her. Then a hand reached out and she felt two fingers run down the side of her face, seemingly brushing the stray hairs from her cheek. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the tender contact but again, refrained from moving. He then got up from the bed and approached what she had to only guess was the wardrobe. A few moments later of mostly silence, while she strained to hear something, before he approached her again.

This time his hand went to her bare shoulder and she wanted to shiver at the heat of his palm against her chilled skin. "Sansa." He spoke gently, running his hand up and down her arm to wake her.

She opened her eyes, hoping it wasn't obvious that she'd been awake longer than he has, and turned to look up at him. He sat down beside her on the bed, fully dressed and ready for the day. Calculating and mysterious again.

"Good morning, sweetling." He greeted gently and she managed a little smile in reply. "I have some work to be done today, but I'll try to make it back for dinner. Perhaps we could dine together?" He asked and she nodded. "How was your night?" He asked and she frowned slightly in confusion.

"It was good, my lord." She replied, searching him for answers.

"It was great, Sansa. That's what you must tell the Queen Regent or anyone else that asks. Do you understand?" He asked, eyes serious and boring into hers. She swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Yes, my lord." She said, still thoroughly confused as to why he did not consummate the marriage in the first place. What was he waiting for?

"Do you require anything now? You can get whatever you desire using my name, I will pay, I do not mind, but as of now do you need anything?" He asked and she twisted her mouth in thought. For you to tell me what the hell is going on here.

"My old handmaiden… Shae, she's my friend. Is there anyway she could still attend to me here?" She asked, the idea springing suddenly into her mind. Lord Baelish blinked.

"It's not smart to have friends, Sansa, you should know that. But as I do not wish for you to be miserable, I shall grant you this request." He leaned closer, as if to tell her something very serious. "You can't trust anyone, Sansa."

She felt an amused smile grace her lips for a second, surprising herself with a sudden boldness. "Funny," she started. "for that is precisely the same thing she told me when referring to you."

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, a half smirk forming. "She's intelligent, I'll give her that." Then he stood and his hand left her arm. He straightened his clothes. "I shall see you later, my lady."

Then he was gone and she had a moment to breath.

.

Shae arrived a mere hour after her lord husband had left and she immediately questioned Sansa about last night.

"How was he? Was he kind to you? Gentle?" She paused upon seeing Sansa's distressed expression. "That bastard hurt you didn't he? He was rough, wasn't he?" The woman sitting across from her on her and her husband's bed started to get herself worked up.

"No, no, he-" she frowned in confusion. "He didn't do anything." She admitted. Lord Baelish had warned her, commanded her, not to tell anyone the truth but Shae was her friend. That, she knew. And if she was wrong and had to suffer the consequences then so be it, at least she'd have a moment of comfort now when she needed it. It would all be worth it.

Shae frowned. "He, what?" She snapped and Sansa smiled awkwardly.

"I… I kept waiting and he kept saying how we are expected to consummate the marriage and how if we don't, it would be a lot of trouble. So then I even started undressing but he stopped me. He said 'not tonight' and then went to sleep." Sansa gushed out, suddenly a little worried. Last night she was thankful but now she started to wonder if it would've been better to just get it over with and not have to worry about people finding out.

"He didn't want to sleep with you?" Shae asked rhetorically in confusion and surprise. Sansa shrugged. Was that it? Did he find her ugly? Unattractive? Did he think of her as some immature little girl?

"Do you think he finds me ugly? Is that why?" Sansa asked quietly, shyly. Shae barked a laugh.

"Unless he's gay, he must certainly be attracted to you, Lady Sansa. You are beautiful and young. I don't understand why he wouldn't." She told her and Sansa had to agree. "Lady Sansa… you must promise not to tell anyone else. I'm afraid it would make you the laughing stock of the city if Lord Baelish, a brothel keeper of all people, wouldn't sleep with you." Her words stung a little but she said them gently to attempt not hurting the young girl's feelings.

"How long do you think it'll take until he consummates it? People will begin to notice if months go by and I don't produce an heir. They'll think me either a virgin or infertile. I'm not sure which one will be worse at that point." Sansa asked, biting her lip anxiously.

"Don't worry about it, my lady. I'm sure there was a reason. Perhaps he drank too much wine and couldn't." She offered as an excuse and Sansa pursed her lips, frowning slightly in confusion, so Shae went on. "When men drink too much they sometimes have trouble getting ready for their lady."

Getting hard, is what she had meant. Sansa knew that. Perhaps that was a feasible explanation. Perhaps he'd be ready tonight?

The thought made Sansa thoroughly nervous all over again, but also relieved that her husband wasn't appalled by her… that sleeping with her is something he may be excited about.

Later in the day while she was engrossed in her stitching, the Queen Regent called on her.

They walked around the gardens making small, insignificant talk for several long minutes until Cersei asked the question.

"So, little dove, you are a woman now I would assume?" She stated but said it like a question. Sansa was conscious of her expression and was sure to keep it intact.

"Yes, I am." She replied, making herself blush slightly as she felt it to be more believable that way. Cersei laughed, a vindictive chilling sound.

"The whore monger pleases. Good." She paused. "And it was all you hoped it would be? Or was he rough with you?"

Her tone made Sansa understand that she hoped that he was rough. She swallowed thickly. "He was very gentle and kind, yes."

Cersei scowled slightly. "Did he ask you to do anything unsavory? Anything unladylike and embarrassing?"

What could she be getting at? Sansa shook her head. "I felt comfortable the entire time." It was in that moment, as Cersei's frown deepened, that Sansa realized the opportunity she had. Cersei's plans aren't going as she wanted them to so far. He hadn't hurt her or asked her to do unorthodox things for him sexually. And if Sansa grew feelings for him? If it was a happy marriage? Cersei would never forgive herself for giving Sansa the life she'd always wanted: a happy marriage with a man she loves and a large family to look after. Like her mother was fortunate enough to have. So perhaps, she could exaggerate a little. "It's odd, really. Before our wedding I had never felt attracted to him, but now…" Sansa fake blushed. "Well I'm very glad it was him you chose to wed me to."

Cersei scowled again, but tried to hide it with a smile that turned into a grimace. "Lovely." She replied before dismissing her.

Sansa walked away with the same shit eating grin that Joffrey had on her wedding night. If being married to Petyr Baelish turned out to be awful for Sansa, she found solace in knowing that by simply pretending to love him infuriated Cersei to no end. And surely Joffrey too, now that she thought about it. This could be her form of revenge, if she couldn't see their heads on a spike, that is.

True to his word, her lord husband returned as dinner was served. He looked tired and worn from the day, but clothes and hair still perfectly intact. She wondered what it'd be like to run her fingers through it.

"My lady," he greeted with a small smile as he pulled out a chair for her and sat opposite her in a matching mahogany one. A few servants had set up a small dining area in their room, complete with a table and two chairs. The food was served already and they were alone.

"My lord." She greeted in return, nodding at him as he sat.

"How was your day?" How did the conversation go? Is what he had meant.

He was a difficult man to read, so good at manipulation and hiding beneath masks, but Sansa began understanding his alternate meanings.

"Rather lovely, actually. Thank you for allowing Shae to be with me." She paused as he filled her glass with Arbor Gold. He nodded. "The Queen Regent and I had a nice walk together through the gardens as well. We spoke of you."

His eyes moved to hers and they glimmered a little, enjoying how grown up and clever she was currently sounding. She could tell he was impressed.

For dramatic purposes, she scooped up some mashed potato and ate a fork full before taking a sip of the wine and finally continuing. He watched her the whole time. "She is happy," she accentuated the word so he understood that the Queen was the opposite of happy. "That I enjoyed our time together. And she was thrilled that I'm gaining affection for my lord husband."

His eyes were calculated and they searched her face for a moment before the corner of his mouth turned upwards in a sly smirk. "Fantastic. I'm glad you had a good day. Mine, I'm afraid, has only just become enjoyable."

Sansa felt a real blush creep up her neck as he cocked an eyebrow at her playfully, but she did her best to suppress it. Though something about his smug smirk as he cut his steak afterwards, told her that she failed and he had noticed.

"I am sorry to hear you had a long day, my lord. Are you preparing for our departure from King's Landing?" She asked. She wanted to know when they'd be gone from this horrid place she used to dream about visiting.

He chewed a mouthful of food and took a sip of the wine before answering. "Yes, plenty of things to get in order before we can go, unfortunately." She nodded her ascent of this and they continued eating, commenting on the food every once and awhile.

Sansa could feel herself getting nervous again. It was the end of the evening and he'd only had one glass of wine and they had a pleasant conversation for the past hour. The fire was on and she set a few candles to lighten up the now quite dark room. Also because it was romantic. He moved to the bed and started undoing the ties of his doublet. She watched from across the room with fascination.

She liked the way he moved, always so graceful: elegant. With a purpose.

His eyes caught hers as he shrugged off his top layers and reached for the ties of his breeches, but stopped and left them on instead. He broke their eye contact by rubbing at his brow tiredly with the back of his hand.

"Would you like me to leave while you dress, my lady?" He asked as he shrugged off his shoes and they dropped with a clunk onto the ground.

She thought about it for a moment. No she did not want to change in front of him. But then again, perhaps that would get him in the mood and this confusion would finally be over with. This humiliation.

"No, that's alright." She replied, gauging his reaction. He was surprised, she saw it flash in his eyes before something different, something darker clouded over in replacement.

He nodded once and pulled back the sheets of their bed to climb in. The bed faced her and he folded an arm behind his head to prop it up and look at her better!

Sansa suddenly felt very out of place as she found the wardrobe that now held both their clothes and pulled out a thin pale blue nightgown. Her mother always said how lovely blue matched her eyes. She chose this one special for tonight in hopes that he would find her beautiful.

She unlaced her dress, struggling for only a moment with the lacing at the back before she got it and the dress slackened. She let it pool at her feet and stepped out of it, picking it up and hanging it like a lady would. She couldn't look at him. Perhaps she could pretend he wasn't there at all and it would be easier.

She did have her underthings on beneath her shift but her chest would be bare before him. She knew she wouldn't be able to do this without shaking if she faced him head on, so she turned her back to him.

She pushed her shift from her shoulders and with a deep breath she let it fall down to her ankles, where she bent down and collected that as well. He couldn't see her breasts as her back was to him but her legs were on full display as well as her entire back. Her behind covered only by the thinnest of cotton. She swiftly, trying not to look like she was rushing, pulled her nightgown over herself, thankful for the cover.

She managed to look relaxed even, as she walked over to their shared bed. The whole time trying not to notice the green eyes burning a hold through her.

Gods was he intense.

She drew herself beneath the covers and turned to face him. His eyes had darkened slightly and he licked his lips before speaking. "You look rather lovely in that." He complimented and she smiled down at the space between them.

"Thank you." She said quietly, shyly. "Are you tired my lord?" He shook his head. "Neither am I." He narrowed his eyes on her slightly as if to decipher what exactly she had meant by that. "Perhaps we could lay closer tonight?" She forced herself to say and his eyebrows rose slightly in surprise.

"I don't think that's the best idea." Was his reply. Her stomach dropped and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She frowned and looked away, hurt by his rejection. All those worries came rushing back to the surface and she blurted those out too.

"Do you think I'm ugly?"

He frowned immediately. "Ugly?" He breathed a laugh, looking confused. "You are breathtaking. Have I made you feel otherwise?" His brow creased in worry.

She shrugged a little. That only leaves one option then, according to Shae. "Are you gay?"

He withdrew from her at that question. "What?" He snapped and she found she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Do you prefer the company of men?" She clarified and he rolled his eyes, thoroughly annoyed now.

"I know what gay means, Sansa." He replied coolly. She bit her bottom lip. "Is that what you think?" She shrugged again. She didn't know what to think. Why didn't he want to be with her sexually? Is there any other explanation?

He mumbled something under his breath before throwing the sheets off of himself and standing. He pulled his shirt on and she panicked. She'd upset him.

"What are you doing?" She demanded but he ignored her and made for the door with haste. She struggled for something to say, something to stop him, but fell short. "My lord, I…"

But he was gone.

She didn't sleep a wink that night.

.

When she told Shae of what had happened, she was beyond confused by his reaction just as Sansa was. Her husband did not return to dine with her that evening, nor did he to sleep by her side that night either. Or to consummate the marriage.

Sansa started to worry about where exactly he'd been resting his head. That's when she thought of his businesses… his brothels. What if he slept there? What if he slept there with another. She felt sick and no amount of stitching the day after could ease her upset stomach. She was trapped in a loveless marriage. There was no changing it. He hated her. And he refused to consummate the marriage, forcing Sansa into playing the shamefully embarrassed virgin of a wife whose husband won't even touch her. She contemplated never leaving her room again, but knew that was silly because besides herself, her handmaiden and her lord husband himself… no one knew that their wedding night was lacking the main event.

She was a little annoyed when two days passed without any news from him whatsoever. She understood that she had annoyed him that night when she asked those questions… but to ignore her for days? Three days.

She pricked her finger twice with the aggressive manner in which she was stitching, but eventually finished the blanket she was making. It was thin and pale green. She was even more annoyed at herself when she realized it was a mockingbird that she had sewn onto the blanket. She huffed and folded it up carelessly before tossing it onto the sofa beside where she was sitting on the arm chair.

She supposed Cersei's plan to make her miserable was working after all, just in a different way than the Queen Regent would have imagined.

She jumped when the door opened.

It was him and he looked a little hesitant. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. He was dressed in a light brown doublet with golden mockingbird designs adorning the material.

"Where were you?" She demanded, sitting straighter on the chair. He sighed deeply and walked over to her, stopped a few feet away.

"One of my other rooms." He told her and her heart sank. He was just a few doors down this whole time. He could have easily visited her at any moment. She wished the blanket was still in her grasp so she could throw it at him. He'd rather sleep alone than with her.

She scowled and crossed her arms. "So why don't you just stay there, then?" She asked in a tone that suggested she didn't want him here.

He sighed again. "Don't act childish, Sansa." He said sternly and she fumed.

"Childish!?" She exclaimed, uncrossing her arms. "No, you know what's childish is ignoring me for three days and sleeping just down the hall instead. Am I that horrible to be with?" Something in his expression shifted and if Sansa wasn't so cross, she would have noticed the defeat in his gaze.

"You're right." He admitted and she opened her mouth to attack him again, not expecting such a submission.

"And- what?" She paused. "I… yes I'm right!"

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly in amusement. She wanted to slap him. Or laugh… Or hug him.

He stepped closer cautiously, as if he feared she'd run… or hit him. Probably the ladder of the two. "I'm sorry." He was genuine. He bent down beside her so he wasn't towering over her. He reached for her hand and she let him take it. "Will you forgive me for being so foolish?"

She swallowed thickly, licking her lips as she contemplated this. He looked sincere enough. She nodded slightly and his thumb stroked over the back of her hand affectionately.

She felt her heart skip a beat when his eyes dropped down to her parted lips for a moment until he looked away as if it never happened. Did he desire her? Why hold back then, if he did?

He stood but as he made to pull his hand away she gripped him tighter, causing his eyes to flick up to hers. There was a question there.

She pulled him closer by the hand and he moved (seemingly) willingly, closer. His knees touched hers but she didn't let go, making him lean over her, his free hand gripping the arm of the chair. She let out a shaky breath as she forced herself to hold his gaze, as intense as it is. His eyes dropped to her lips again and she felt her stomach flutter with anticipation.

Then he shook his head, the slightest of movements, before pulling away completely and moving to make a fire. She deflated with disappointment. Why not? She wanted to scream.

She didn't want to fight with him again, though, and she feared if she asked him a direct question related to this again, that he'll leave for even longer. But she figured she could backpedal if need be, if she was careful with her words.

"My lord, I'm… I'm sorry for before. For what I asked you." She said, hoping it wasn't too much to scare him off again. He finished with the fire and sighed as he stood, making his way over to sit on the end of the couch near the armchair she was occupying. "I don't think that at all."

His eyes found hers and she could see how tired he was. He nodded once, and looked away again. He chose not to add anything to that particular topic of conversation so she, instead of pushing it further, decided to change the subject.

"I've heard rumors, my lord, that you knew my mother when you were younger." She said and he clenched his jaw. Perhaps she should start backpedalling now? Still, she pushed further. "I heard you held affection for her."

He breathed in deeply through his nose and nodded again, stiffly. "I loved her as a boy." He admitted quietly, almost reluctantly.

"My lord, forgive me for asking but… do you… I mean, am I some sort of replacement for her in your eyes?" She hoped not.

He finally turned to look at her, eyes serious and as intense as ever. "No, Sansa." This time it was him that swallowed thickly. "You have her hair and her eyes, but nothing much else. You are stronger than her and far more clever." He paused again. "And of course I don't mean that as a slight against her, but it's true. She wouldn't have survived a week if she was placed in your position here, all alone. She never did well alone."

Sansa didn't dare speak. He was sharing. His thoughts, feelings, past. She wanted to hear it all. She sat quiet for several long minutes hearing nothing but the crackle of burning wood while he gathered his thoughts and courage.

"I was around 8 years old when my parents died. I had nothing. I was no one. So I left my home, where I had no future, to find a place where I might find one. And I did. I found Riverrun… I found Catelyn Tully. I loved her instantly." He paused, biting his bottom lip for a moment. "I lived there with her and her family for 7 years until she was promised to Lord Brandon Stark, your uncle." His eyes glinted with reminiscence, she could almost see the pictures, memories, as they flashed before his eyes.

"Naturally, I wanted to stop it. Run away together… anything. But she refused. She wanted to do as her father wished… Family, duty, honor. I was 15 when he, a warrior of 22, arrived in Riverrun. It was that same day that I challenged him to a duel for her hand. It was beyond foolish of me, I know that now, but you have to understand… Cat loved all those heroic stories of princesses and true love, so of course I had heard all of them. I was so sure that the little guy would win, the underdog against all odds, that I did fight him."

His expression went a shade darker. "But she gave her token to Brandon and I lost the duel. And as I laid there bleeding and dying and hopeless… my love for her twisted into something unnatural… something dark. That's where Littlefinger began. I thought if I was a rich, important lord like Brandon or Eddard Stark, that she would love me, but of course that's not how love works. And like I said, what I felt for her after that moment wasn't love at all, but something else." He paused again, this time for a long time. "I didn't see her again until a few years ago, after that day. I was sent away, and she never visited. Never even wrote to me."

He had finished talking now and she analyzed him. He was sad, but almost a little regretful… on the verge of cringing, as if he hadn't meant to share so much. He sighed, rubbing a hand down the side of his face.

"So yes, I knew your mother and I cared for her when I was a child. But no, Sansa… You are not a replacement. To be completely honest, I hardly see her in you at all… not after getting to know you throughout these years." He added, turning to face her at the end. His eyes were unknowingly calling for her.

She decided to be bold. Not because she wanted him to finally bed her, but because he was vulnerable for the first time ever and he looked so worn from just that conversation alone.

She stood silently and walked over to the couch to sit beside him. She sat close beside him and gingerly wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. He seemed to want to brush it off at first… brush her off, but reluctantly he gave in and hugged her back.

She breathed in through her nostrils and closed her eyes, secretly enjoying the smell of him: mint mixed with sandalwood. It was an odd mix but very pleasant all the same. She didn't want to admit to herself that she was enjoying his embrace, but she was. His arms were strong around her, but gentle at the same time and his warmth was oh so inviting.

She listened closely and detected his steady heartbeat. She wondered if his heart was always beating this fast or if… she smiled to herself, it was because of her.

She pulled her head back slightly to look at him and his eyes greedily found hers. They were wide and searching and gods help her, they flickered down to her lips again. This time they stayed there. She felt her stomach flutter again, and she parted her lips in a silent invitation.

His gaze met hers again and she saw something hesitant… something reluctant. But he didn't pull away and instead he shifted closer, his hand moving up to cup her cheek. She leaned into the warm palm of his hand and for the briefest of moments she thought his eyes flashed with something sincere… like a smile.

He pulled her closer slowly, fingertips curling under her jaw to lead her face to his. When they were a breath apart, lips almost brushing, he stopped and waited. She got the idea that he was waiting for her, which she found odd… since when did a man ever wait to take his pleasure?

One hand moved down to his chest and the other curled around the back of his neck, her fingers twisting in that perfectly intact hair of his. He closed his eyes for a brief second when her nails scratched through the hair at his nape. She drew herself closer, anxious but excited at the same time.

She watched his eyes close before her own fluttered shut. And then their lips met.

It was nothing like the almost nonexistent brush on their wedding day. It was sweeter and as she pulled away he went back in for another. This press was firmer and far more insistent against hers.

She felt his hand travel behind her neck so his fingers tangled in her hair. As he did that, she felt a noise threaten to escape her lips but she suppressed it, surprised at herself. His other hand moved down her spine, fingers feeling each vertebrate as he went, and stopped at the small of her back.

His mouth was moving slowly, sensually, against hers and she soon got the hang of it, matching his kisses with equal fervor. She had the sudden need to get closer and she shifted a little onto her knees beside him so her chest could press against his. This time it was him to try and suppress a noise but she heard it, or rather, felt it.

The hand at her back left to grip her lower thigh, urging her to draw it across his lap and she did; feeling something she'd never felt before course through her when her core pressed over his. She even gasped a little, cursing herself afterwards but not being able to help it when she felt him there. And he was hard… she was sure of it, or was that his belt?

He chuckled against her lips and pulled away with a regretful sigh. He tilted his head as he admired her, running a thumb along her now plump lips.

"I apologize, Lady Baelish." He started… he was teasing her and the sound of that name in jest on his lips made her blush. "I got a bit carried away."

Sansa shook her head no, but no words formed. She wanted to tell him not to stop, to finally finish what he should have last week. But then also, a part of her was content with what they've achieved tonight, and that same part of her knew she wasn't exactly comfortable doing more. She knew it needed to be done… but if he wanted to get there slowly, then she was certainly okay with it.

He stood, holding her against him so she didn't fall as she found her footing. He smirked down at her when she took a reluctant step back. "Shall we sleep, my lady?" He asked and she nodded.

As they prepared themselves for bed and climbed in, he waited to blow out the candle. "Perhaps we could… sleep closer tonight?" He added, repeating what she had asked of him days ago. She blushed a little and tried in vain to suppress a smile. She nodded and shifted her body closer to his.

His arm moved up, welcoming her as she snuggled against him. His hand rested on the small of her back and he drew patterns there.

Sansa found that she really, very much enjoyed sleeping like this with him. She breathed in and detected the mint and sandalwood again. Gods she loved that smell.

Perhaps all he needed was some intimacy after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a kiss! I'm not hot, you are.
> 
> The chapter I just finished writing was sooo hot, mmm. ;)


	3. Ease into it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa visits Petyr at his work while Petyr contemplates his options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write!
> 
> I love how Sansa can go from quiet, naive and shy-looking, to bold and strong and fierce. She was like that to Joffrey throughout her time in King's Landing and it always intrigued me. What a strong person she is. She's like this with Petyr.

He wanted to slap himself.

He was such an imbecile admitting those things to her. Sharing himself and his past. What was he thinking!?

Yes, in the moment he decided she needed _something_ from him. But why that!?

She was a distraction, it seemed. A pretty red headed distraction, just like her mother was at her age.

But no. That wasn't true. What he had told her was, unfortunately, the truth. He loved Cat and that love ruined him. Destroyed him. It demolished his innocence and hope in both people and the world.

A part of him hated Sansa because of her mother. Because of her relation to the Tully family. Because of how similar she looked to her mother.

She was far more beautiful than any woman from either side of her family. He had met Lyanna Stark once and admittedly she was rather beautiful herself, but nothing compared to the beauty that Sansa possessed. She wasn't even a full grown woman yet and she far outweighed the beauty of her mother.

A distraction indeed.

When Cersei first mentioned the marriage a part of him was excited. He'd get to marry the one person he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of since she came here to King's Landing.

He was impressed she survived this long.

He wasn't nearly as naive as the other lords and ladies as he didn't believe a single smile or laugh since her father was executed. She was miserable here. Scared and miserable and lonely. A part of him wanted to change that.

He wasn't sure what Cersei had waiting for her at Harrenhal, but it couldn't be good. He couldn't just take her there and leave her to the wolves. But... she _is_ a wolf.

Cersei would know if they didn't do as she wished and travel to Harrenhal to live out their days. But how could he ensure her safety? Did it really matter? He always knew what his decision would be if it came down to his life or another. That didn't even require a second thought. His desires came first, always.

Would Cersei want them to make an heir? Perhaps to humiliate him further? So then would her torture for the poor girl wait until after their first born son? No, Cersei wouldn't care if she was with child or not.

He stroked his goatee in thought as his other hand twisted a quill around his fingers.

He'd need to fuck the girl sooner or later, he knew that much. She had started asking questions, why? But it would spoil his plans if he did… He just didn’t know how long he could last with her attempts at seducing him. Because of course, he wanted to. If the wrong person found out Sansa’s a virgin before he wanted everyone to find out, it would cause too much trouble. He could get what he wants, bed her, and then pay off whichever maester examines her before he is rid of her for good. At least then he wouldn't suffer blue balls every night.

The truth still gnawed at him. Her daughter. He didn't want to ruin the girl. He didn't want to hurt her either. And he certainly didn't want her to lie there motionless, whimpering quietly for him to stop when he finally did bed her. He wanted her to want him, too. And not because duty demands it, and not because of her mother's same words of family, duty, honor. Those same words tore Cat away from him in the first place. That was just another reason he hasn’t.

Hate rose within him at the thought of the woman who ruined him all those years ago. His grip tightened around the quill, knuckles turning white.

But no. She wasn't her mother. She was far more clever, beautiful, and there was something intriguing about her. Something that drew him in. Her grace, elegance, stubbornness, fierceness… he adored it all in truth. He certainly desired her.

Another, more sinister part of him wanted to corrupt her. To make her his. To mark her. To make her truly beg for him and his hands and his mouth and most importantly his cock.

It almost made him topple over with laughter when she asked if he found her ugly. Ugly!? Holy fuck, if only she knew how badly he wanted her. How badly he craved to see her skin, to touch and kiss her bare skin. How terribly he wanted to bury his head between those glorious thighs of hers and make her scream for him. Oh, she would want him eventually. She would beg for him. Then he would take her.

And then he would do as Cersei bids to save his own ass. He would protect her in Harrenhal until his plans were due to play out. But he didn't think he could watch the girl suffer whatever Cersei had set up for her there. He didn’t know how long they would have in Harrenhal until his plans, and Cersei’s of course, ran their course and she’d be out of his arms.

Best not to anger Cersei… and Joffrey for that matter.

Once his plans played out, he would be connected to the Stark family: linked to them. Yes, they may be traitors here but in the North they are highly respected and many families would still send an entire army to fight by the side of a Stark. Petyr could certainly use that blood connection to his advantage.

First he must hand her over to a family that's in need of a Stark in order to solidify their claim on the North. In order to get Sansa to the North, her home. Petyr would make allies that way. He will use her, like he uses everyone, for his own personal gain.

Yes he was a terrible person. A selfish, greedy man. But it's all he's ever known. Any other emotion has caused him terrible pain. Especially when it comes to a Tully woman.

A part of him had a soft spot for this girl and he knew it, too. That was the most dangerous part of this whole scenario. He mustn't lose himself in her. She had power over him that she didn't even know she possessed. He knew he mustn't let what happened last night, happen again. He got caught up in those blue pools of hers and the lull of her voice. He spilled some secrets of his own without a second thought and gods did that terrify him. He can't get attached. He'd lose everything he's built. He had to keep her separated from those feelings that stirred inside of him at the thought of her.

At first he thought perhaps she could come along with him, up the ladder of chaos, but that was impossible. He knew he would fall helplessly for her if he let himself. So he couldn't let himself. And he needed to give her away in order to get her back and move a step up that ladder, anyways. This was the next step. Sansa Stark, was the next step.

He couldn't think of her in that way. She was his inconvenience, his burden, his whore. Just a girl.

A distraction.

A distraction that he intends to use to his advantage. To move up further.

Yet, she seemed to constantly surprise him and Petyr had to admit... not many people did.

He sighed, running his hand down the side of his face. He dropped the pen and leaned back in his chair.

A gentle rapping at the door told him someone wished to see him and he folded his hands together in his lap.

"Yes?" He called out, voice even.

The door opened and Ros stepped through. "My lord. There's someone here to see you."

Petyr's eyebrows rose slightly with interest. He nodded his head.

"She… said she was your wife." Ros paused, gauging his reaction. He frowned slightly in confusion. Ros shook her head. "I told her if she wanted a job, she needn't talk to you about it. I told her-"

"Let her in." Petyr interrupted her employee's rambling. Ros frowned at him. "She's certainly not looking for a job. She _is_ my wife."

Ros gaped at him for a second, looking dumbstruck. She nodded and turned around.

Sansa… here? Why?

He glanced at the two girls lounging half naked on the couch across the room. He snapped his fingers at them and their attention was immediately focused on him. He smirked. "Touch each other. Give my lady a show."

The girls giggled and began kissing sensually. If Sansa wanted to try -feebly- to seduce him and entice him into his own bed… he'd show her exactly what that meant.

He focused back on the papers in front of him before he heard the door open again. He didn't look up. "My dear, did you need something?" He asked, still looking down.

He heard her clear her throat, clearly not expecting to see such a blatant display of affection just across the room. He bit back a smirk.

"My lord," her voice was quiet and a little shy. "I apologize for interrupting…"

He glanced up to see her attention entirely focused on the two women currently undressing each other.

They were about to audition for a job… perhaps, he smirked, they could audition in front of her. Perhaps that would teach her a lesson.

"Sansa?"

Her head snapped back to him and she blushed deeply.

"I- yes, well…" He raised his eyebrows expectantly and she licked her lips nervously, glancing once more at the coupling across the room. By the sounds of it, one was suckling the other's chest. "I was tired of being all cooped up and I wished to go for a walk. I passed by one of your… establishments, and I was curious."

"Well," he spread his arms out as if to gesture to the room. "Is it everything you've ever imagined?"

Sansa swallowed thickly, head snapping in the direction of the couch when the dark haired girl -what was her name again?- started moaning. Oh yes, one was touching the other. Sansa's eyes widened slightly.

"Come here, sweetling."

He couldn't deny how fun doing this to her was.

She walked slowly towards him and he pushed out his chair from his desk, uncrossing his legs as he did so. She stopped a few feet away, keeping her back to the women as she faced him.

He let his gaze sweep over her body appreciatively and when his eyes made it back up to her face he saw her cheeks flush from embarrassment. She was wearing a beautiful lavender coloured dress that was light and airy. He wondered, because of the thin material, if he could see her nipples poking out from beneath the material if she stayed in his… establishment longer. He made that today's goal.

He simply patted his thigh and her eyes widened a little. Petyr cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh?" He questioned aloud. "Would you rather sit there?" He gestured to the couch across the room with his chin.

She immediately scrambled towards him and perched herself a top his lap. She was stiff and awkward at first but he wrapped his arms around her and soon she settled more comfortably against him. One hand rested against her upper thigh and the other was behind her neck to tangle in her hair. He did adore that hair.

"My employee thought you were looking for a job here." He stated, leaning in closer and lowering his voice. "But you wouldn't like that would you?"

Sansa shook her head, looking shy once again. "Do… do you always have girls in your office, doing that?" She asked and he smirked a little.

"No. Never. But you see, this is an audition. Unfortunately not all women can marry a rich lord and live without a want in the world." The words came out slowly and he could see in her eyes that she took it as a threat. Good. "What do you think of them? Should I hire them?"

Sansa turned her attention back to the women and he saw her face scrunch up a little. He chuckled beside her ear. "Yes, I agree."

He could tell Sansa was not enjoying what she was seeing and she squirmed a little on his lap. He had to stifle a groan at the feeling of her bottom wiggling against his lap. Oh, he would have her. Yes. But in the right way.

His grip on her thigh tightened. "It feels so fake doesn't it?" He whispered and she nodded. He saw the goosebumps rise along her arms as he dragged his fingers along her skin.

The woman with the light brown hair, who was pleasing the raven haired woman, started crawling down her body, urging the other to wrap her legs around her head. She licked up her thigh before eating her out like a champ, if he said so himself. Sansa turned her head sharply away from the scene, her expression slightly horrified. Petyr chuckled darkly against her neck as he moved her hair a side to press his cheek against the hot skin there, feeling her pulse jump.

"Look."

He demanded, turning her face back to the scene before them. Sansa shuddered a little.

"Do you have any idea how many men would like to do that to you?" He breathed against her ear and she gasped a little. She turned to him with wide eyes.

"I-I didn't…"

"-didn't know that men feast on their woman's cunt?" He paused, enjoying the horror seep into her expression. He lowered his voice, dragging his eyes down to her body and then back up to the horrified pools of her eyes. _"Didn't know that men wanted to feast on _your_ cunt?"_

He could see it in her eyes. The shock.

She cleared her throat. "And, uhm… do you?"

Now, he didn't expect _that_.

He had meant this to be a lesson. _Don't play with me until you're ready_. He didn't know if he could refuse her any longer so he hoped this little lesson would make her understand what exactly she was asking him for.

He blinked in surprise. Swallowed down the strange lump forming in his throat. _When's the last time he felt that?_

"Yes." He answered honestly and her lips parted in surprise, forming a cute 'O' shape. He couldn't help but imagine what would fit _perfectly _in that shape of her lips. His gaze darkened and he felt himself stirring She seemed to feel it too because her eyes flickered down to glance at his lap briefly before looking away entirely.

A loud moan cut through the sexual tension in the air (which had nothing to do with the oral lesbian sex happening across the room), and the spell between them was broken.

Petyr stood abruptly, making her scramble to find her footing. He walked over to the couple and stood with his hands on his hips, pacing angrily in front of them.

"No, no, no, no." He said clear and loud. The women stopped immediately and faced him instead. "Is that what they teach you up at the north?" He snapped at the woman who was moaning obnoxiously. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?"

The woman looked down at the ground, embarrassed and seemingly ashamed. Perhaps a little frightened, too. "I'm sorry, my lord."

"Try again…" He started, turning around to face Sansa. He walked over to her slowly, eyes soaking her up greedily. The two girls went back at it, the northern girl's cries were far quieter and drawn out. More believable.

He walked around his lady wife, stopping behind her to press his chest against her back. "You're not fooling them. They know what you are, they just paid you. They know it’s all an act. Your job is to make them forget, and that takes time."

He kissed Sansa sweetly, innocently, on the cheek before continuing. "Now, he's winning you over in spite of yourself… you're starting to enjoy this."

His one hand rested on her hip and he gripped possessively. "He's enjoyed his cock ever since he was old enough to play with it, why shouldn't you?"

“He knows he’s better than other men. He’s always known it deep down inside. Now he has proof. He’s so good, he’s reaching something deep inside of you that no one even knew was there. Overcoming your very nature.” He breathed across Sansa neck purposely to see her reaction and he wasn’t disappointed. “Play with her ass.” He tossed out at the couple across from them.

His voice dropped a decimal as his lips grazed Sansa's glorious neck. "This time… ease into it." He let his tongue bounce off the t's seductively, just as the raven haired northern girl gasped out as her pleasure overtook her body and she came hard. Sansa let out a shaky breath, clearly horrified, but there was something else there, too...

He smirked devilishly as he pulled away from his lovely little lady. "Get cleaned up." He snapped at them. "Both of you are working tonight."

With that, the ladies left quietly and Petyr turned his attention back to Sansa, who looked extremely shy.

"Sansa," he bowed playfully and she bit back a smile. He knew she was still bothered by what had just been demonstrated in front of her. "Did you enjoy what I have to offer here?" He teased and she bit at the side of her cheek, trying not to blush. The virgin in her.

"Not as much as you." She bit back smartly, glancing down pointedly at his groin, which he knew was stiff from his interaction with Sansa. The wolf in her. He chuckled.

"You and I both know that wasn't from my whores, my darling girl." He replied shamelessly. She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips.

"Good to know you don't think of me as one of them. Because I will not be your whore." She said sternly and he smirked in amusement, stepping closer.

"You'll be whatever I make you, Sansa." He replied, just to rile her up. Her eyes narrowed on him immediately.

"No I won't." She countered bravely and it made his chest, for some unfeasible reason, fill with pride. Stubborn Stark that she is.

"I am your husband, lady Baelish." He reminded her, stepping closer. She watched him cautiously.

"Not officially." She countered and he smirked in amusement, resisting the urge to bark a laugh at her comment. Oh, she was something, alright.

"Ahh, the consummation." He hushed quietly, glancing towards his closed office door, fearing their secrecy. His eyes found hers again and she licked her lips anxiously. He was sure his pupils had to have swallowed his irises completely by now.

She held her head high. "You said so yourself, my lord… it needs to happen."

"Yes." He agreed. "A duty." He was testing her. Feeling her out. Was she ready yet? Because gods it was hard to not pounce on her now.

She swallowed thickly and nodded curtly. "A duty. It's your right, my lord. I'm afraid that, should anyone find out, I would be the laughing stock or the century."

He could see where she was coming from. She was genuinely worried about such a thing happening. "Does it matter what others think of you at this point, Sansa? They already think you're a traitor. They already think you're a ruined woman thanks to me."

Her eyes flickered down to the floor and then back up to his. He saw the wheels turning. "Yes, but-"

"Now, now… I thought you didn't want to be my whore. Tsktsktsk. But here you are. Telling me to fuck you." He teased, hoping his sharp, vulgar tongue would scare her. Fuck did the trick effectively enough, but she wasn't giving up anytime soon, it seemed.

She bit down on her lower lip, trying to figure out exactly what to say next. If he thought her fire burnt out, he was sorely mistaken. "How do you think it makes me feel, my lord?" She asked rhetorically… sarcastically. "My own brothel keeper of a husband won't even touch me. It's utterly embarrassing being married to you."

And with that she spun around and left. He had never seen that side of her before and he was truly shocked… and a little impressed… very angry… but a little turned on, too. In fact, he was extremely turned on.

He dealt with the ladder first, jacking himself quickly behind the locked door of his office, imagining what it would feel like to have her hand stroking him instead. Or… his balls tightened as he neared his orgasm… _her mouth_. Her glorious, inexperienced little mouth sucking him dry like the little whore he never wants her to become.

It was almost hysterical that she fears him turning her into his own personal whore. Hysterical that Cersei, Joffrey and everyone else believe him to be doing that to her as well. They all just assume that because he owns a few brothels that whores are what he desires? His work would be very difficult to focus on if that were the case. Thankfully, it most certainly isn't. Beautiful, inexperienced, pure and naive little Sansa sounded perfectly delicious to him.

When his release came, literally, he cleaned himself up and prepared for the rest of the day. It was a little past lunch, but he figured he should work extra fast today in hopes of making dinner with Sansa.

Pissed as he was at her little outburst, he craved her presence. He was thirsty for her conversation. Drunk off the sight and smell of her. He needed more. Even if more just meant arguing with her until they both fell asleep next to each other where he could wrap his arms around her body and pull her against him. As upset as she may be at him… he knew she liked the intimacy; she craved it too.

Perhaps he'd even bring her something. His little minx. His wolf. His whore. His lady wife.

Gods, this plan may be harder than all his other ones combined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of Petyr's thoughts!
> 
> After chatting with some of you lovely people in the comments I thought I'd get this chapter out there so you all have a little glimpse into Petyr's character and his plans.
> 
> He is NOT a good person. He wasn't on the show/in the book and he isn't in this story either. He's selfish and all he cares about is moving up in the world; being important and wealthy and powerful.
> 
> He's made plans for Sansa that will gain him in the future, but he struggles with it for many reasons. First, it's hard to resist her. Second, a part of him feels something for her and he knows his plans will hurt her to some degree. He believes the human part of him that comes out when she's around is because of her mother and what he use to feel for her, is that the reason? Maybe. He refuses to accept the fact that he sees something in her. They are very much alike in many ways.
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much for reading!! Please comment to tell me your thoughts/suggestions/etc...


	4. Go on... Ease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrrrry I didn't post for a while! My schedule at work is crazy so I never have time to post. But work has settled down a little so hopefully it will be more consistent now.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!!
> 
> I have some major plans for this story and I can't wait till they get set in motion.
> 
> ...some smut for you here ;)

Before he left his work for the day, he received another caller. A young boy with shaggy blond hair. He offered Petyr a rolled up scroll, _ Lannister _sigil wax seal.

He sighed deeply and snapped the seal, unraveling the letter.

An invitation. To dinner… for him and Sansa. Tomorrow.

His brow furrowed slightly. Perhaps to check up on the newly wed? What other reason would they have to invite the two of them to such an event?

* * *

She shouldn't have said that to him. It was harsh and rude and a little mean.

Sansa cursed when she pricked her finger hard enough to draw blood. She winced and drew the finger into her mouth, abandoning her stitching for the time being. She was making him an apology gift. It was a black handkerchief with a tiny silver mockingbird stitched into the corner. She thought it was rather tasteful and classy… his style. She hoped he would like it.

Would he show up here tonight, or ignore her again? She definitely deserved it this time. Is he upset? Or simply angry? She'd rather the ladder forsure. There was a pang of regret in her chest at the thought of him being truly upset due to something she had said.

_ And what was all that today at his brothel!? _ She had been trying to convince him to finally bed her and get it over with so there was no risk of further humiliation on her end, but today it felt like he was the one seducing her. Firstly, she was _ appalled _ at the thought of someone, _ him, _ wanting to put their mouth… _ down there! _ In her most sacred area.

And he _ was _ hard today, there was no doubt about that. He was hard and wanting and she could _ feel _ it.

She jumped when the door opened and even gasped slightly in surprise. She quickly shoved the handkerchief into a hidden pocket in her dress and turned to face him.

He looked irritated, of course, and she felt like shrinking under his impenetrable gaze. Though she enjoyed meeting him toe to toe today and found she could let her real self out around him. As shy and nervous as she was right now, she wanted to appear strong, brave and confident. Besides, she had a sneaky suspicion that he enjoyed her more like that as well. _ The wolf. _

"My _ loving _ wife." He greeted sarcastically and she chewed nervously on her cheek as he shut the door behind himself. He had a white box tucked under his arm and he placed it on the end of the bed before coming closer.

"My lord." She said plainly in returned greeting as she stood. "I… would like to apologize for earlier. I was cruel to you."

"Don't apologize. It's true, of course. How could you not be embarrassed to be my wife?" He threw back rhetorically.

"No, my lord, it's not that. It's just… with your reputation… people would assume no less than you taking me every single night. Perhaps multiple times per night." She started to hastily explain, not missing the slight smirk from him. "And if anyone finds out that you haven't, not even once, then they'll think there's something wrong with me."

Her eyes widened slightly. _ Was there something wrong with her!? _ "My lord… _ is _ there something wrong with me?"

He sighed, seemingly cringing at her words. He ran a hand through his hair, making it slightly less intact than usual. She liked it more this way. He stepped closer. "Of course not, my lady. You are… perfect." He paused and there was an awkward silence between them. '_ So…? _' Sansa wanted to ask, but it seemed he wasn't going to elaborate.

"Please forgive me for what I said earlier." She urged and he let out a long sigh.

"There's nothing to forgive, my lady." He responded and she felt relief course through her.

"I… made you something. As an apology." She told him, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the handkerchief.

He stared at it in confusion for a moment before reaching his hand out to brush his fingers against it. He took it from her gently and held it in front of his face to examine it. He exhaled slowly as he lowered the material. His eyes held surprise and also a little admiration.

"It's absolutely beautiful, my dear. Thank you. I shall carry it with me always." He said quietly, voice strangely husky. She was surprised at his reply and felt herself smiling a little. He stepped forwards and reached for her, showing his intent to embrace her. She willingly accepted and curled herself into his sturdy chest as his arms wrapped around her body.

When he pulled away he folded the handkerchief neatly and tucked it away inside his tunic. He was business-like again.

"I received a letter today. We are invited to dine with the King, his fiance, his mother, grandfather and a few other people of importance tomorrow evening." He informed her and her brow furrowed slightly. _ Why? _ "I also brought you a gift. I was hoping you'd consider wearing it for dinner tomorrow."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise as he led her over to the bed where that box awaited patiently. He gestured for her to open it and she did, gingerly.

It was a gorgeous dress. The material was a thin silk and as she ran her fingertips along it, she immediately knew just how fine the silk was. It would have been _ expensive. _ It was the colour of cerulean blue, very similar to that of her eyes. The stitching was golden and it made swirling designs, as if representing wind, throughout the dress. As she examined it closer, holding it up in front of her, she saw a golden mockingbird on the shoulder and another one just beneath it.

"Do you like it?" He asked, watching her closely.

She breathed out shakily, looking up at him.

"Lord Baelish, it's…"

"Petyr." He interrupted sternly and she swallowed thickly.

"Petyr." She agreed, looking back down at the dress. "It's breathtaking."

He smiled and she thought it might truly be a genuine one. "Would you try it on for me?"

She bit down on her bottom lip nervously. She nodded. "Would you turn around for me, my lord?" She asked and he smirked knowingly. He spun around.

She pulled on the ties of the dress she currently wore and pulled it over her head. This left her in an equally thin shift and she reached for the new dress.

"Don't wear anything underneath it on your top half, sweetling." He informed her and she frowned slightly.

"Not a shift?" She questioned and he shook his head.

"It would ruin the effect of the silk, love. You want it to hug your curves but look airy and light. Delicate." He told her and she pursed her lips.

She pulled off her shift, too, and then pulled the dress on finally. She had to admit that it felt heavenly: extremely comfortable. And she felt like a goddess wearing it.

She adjusted it slightly and secretly wished there was a mirror in here to see what it looked like before he saw it on her.

"You can look now." She told him and he spun back around, jaw going slightly slack at the sight of her.

"Gods," he breathed, eyes soaking her up. "I'm afraid there isn't a word in the english language to properly describe your beauty."

She blushed, shamefully. "Thank you. I love it." He smiled again, a little cheekily. He stepped closer, body swaying as he did so.

"We'll make them jealous tomorrow. How would you like that?" He paused, tucking a strand of auburn behind her ear. "I was informed of your conversation with Cersei the day after our wedding. You find me attractive, hmm? And I was _ gentle _ and kind with you…" He repeated the words she had fed to the Queen Regent when she asked a week ago. Sansa blushed. "Clever girl, you are. It could be fun to get back at them a little, I agree. So let's play it up, shall we?" He leaned down to peck her cheek sweetly. "We can pretend to be the new doting couple. Happily married and perhaps even falling in love. That would piss them right off, wouldn't it?"

Sansa smiled cheekily. "That was exactly what I intended her to believe that day I said those things, my lord." She paused, flushing slightly. He tilted his head to the side to examine her. "Not that you aren't attractive, my lord."

He smirked in amusement, raising an accusing eyebrow as he folded his arms across his chest. "So you _ do _ find me attractive?" He clarified and her blush intensified.

"Of course, my lord." She replied, ignoring how honest she found the statement now.

_ "Petyr." _ He corrected immediately and she looked down at their feet.

"Yes, _ Petyr _. Sorry." She replied, looking back up at him. The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a lopsided smile.

"Good to know." He paused, backing away from her to sit down on the couch. "It'll make pretending to love me tomorrow a lot easier."

Sansa heard slight bitterness in his tone but decided not to mention it. She sat down cautiously beside him, curling her legs beneath herself. "Will we be leaving for Harrenhal soon, Petyr?"

He turned to her. "I'm not exactly sure. Cersei wants us gone and we both sure as hell want to leave, but I have a lot to get in order before we can. Besides, I'm still having people fix Harrenhal up for us. It wasn't exactly livable last year."

"Oh," she started, licking her lips to moisten them. "So it could be a while then?"

"A few more weeks at most." He promised to reassure her and she nodded. A few more weeks, she could do that. "Dinner is being prepared for us." He changed the subject and she smiled softly.

"Good, I'm hungry." She replied gratefully and he nodded in agreement.

"I don't know what Joffrey or Cersei have planned tomorrow night. We must promise each other that we'll stick together no matter what." Petyr said sternly and she nodded along.

"Of course, my lord. _ Ah- _ Petyr." She corrected and he smiled in amusement, rolling his eyes playfully.

He leaned back as he watched her curiously.

"So, did you enjoy visiting me today?" He asked and she blushed, looking down.

"I don't really know how to feel about it." She admitted honestly. She _ shouldn't _ have liked it. "Did _ you _ enjoy me visiting you today?" She countered bravely and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Very much so." He drawled. She thought about what she had felt earlier in the day… the hardness in his lap. _ Was _ it her that provoked such a thing? Was it exactly what she thought it was? What did that mean exactly? -That he wanted to have sex with her?

She wasn't exactly sure about anything that had to do with the things that occur between men and women beneath the sheets. But she knew that he did. He had _ extensive _ knowledge and, she was sure, _ experience _ in that particular field of expertise. That made her very nervous.

"Petyr… I… I really am sorry for what I said. I truly didn't mean it." She said quietly, still feeling bad about earlier.

"Yes you did." He countered and she knew it was the truth. Though her previous words were harsh and unrefined. She wished she could take them back.

"I didn't mean for it to come out like that, though." She said honestly and he sighed deeply.

"Here I thought you'd be grateful for my decision. Would you have rathered me take you like every other man in Westeros would have? Just strip you down and push you onto your hands and knees?" This time it was _ his _ words that were harsh and unrefined. She squirmed in her seat, wrapping her arms around her knees in an attempt to hide. He leaned closer to her, eyes intense. "You wouldn't like that, would you?"

She was biting down hard on her bottom lip, tasting blood. "You could be… nice about it. Gentle and sweet." She countered and he pulled away again. "You don't have to act like a caveman."

He scoffed. "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day, to your sorrow."

She pondered his words for a moment. "I believe I've already learned that lesson, my lord." Her voice was bitter. The thought of her dead family made her stomach twist sickly.

"People you love have learned that lesson. But not you, no." He countered and she frowned. Who was he to tell her if she has or hasn't suffered!? "Sansa. I know you've been through a lot in the last few years… all I'm trying to say is that I don't understand why you're not happy about the fact that I've kept you pure and innocent. It could be a lot worse. You're very lucky that it's me you married."

She pursed her lips. _ Could she really argue with that? _

"I'm not a rapist, Sansa." He added, voice sounding tired. She turned to look at him. "You're so much younger than me… _ and _ a virgin. And I know you think you're ready but you're not. I refuse to feel like I'm forcing you. I refuse to fuck someone that will regret provoking me the second I start."

She was surprised at his little confession and she searched his face for lies. This… _ holding off _ , wasn't for _ her? _ No way was it for her. A man would never do such a thing. He would never put a woman before his own pleasure. Never. He was lying. There was something else.

She sat quietly, chewing the inside of her cheek anxiously. She swallowed thickly. She was a _ wolf. _ A wolf takes what it wants and what Sansa wants is to make the best of the life she's given; she is lady Baelish now and she intents to not let people walk all over her like they have been. If anyone found out about what _ hasn't _ transpired between her and Petyr, it would embarrass Sansa to no end. She planned on making this life _ hers. _ Maybe she could do the same to Petyr? Make him hers, truly? It couldn't be too difficult, could it?

"We could _ try." _ She said suddenly and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "And stop if I'm not ready."

His eyes were dark and lustful. His tongue shot out of the corner of his lips and her eyes followed the action. He shifted uncomfortably and her eyes shot down to see if she could identify a familiar (yet also very unfamiliar) bulge in his trousers, but his tunic covered him completely.

"Maybe." Was all he said in response before dinner was brought to their room and they began to eat in silence.

It was some kind of soup, but Sansa wasn't sure _ what _ kind. Something fancy, surely. She sipped at the Arbor Gold, which Petyr had filled her glass with generously.

_ Maybe _ wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear… but it wasn't a _ no _, either.

She let the topic drop for the remainder of the evening and instead they stuck to what Sansa would call _ safe _ topics. _ What's your favourite meal? Dessert? Colour? _

She found she enjoyed sleeping next to him… or in the case of the following morning… on_ top _ of him. She blushed bright crimson when she woke to the soothing feeling of his fingers running up and down her back. She had one arm stretched across his body and her head over his heart, a leg even twisted it's way between his. She felt a soft chuckle erupt from his chest, obviously sensing her distress, or perhaps feeling her tense.

"Uhm… sorry." She mumbled as she pulled away, but he tightened his grip on her and pulled her against him again. She lifted her head to look at him questioningly. He smirked.

"Good morning, my dear." He purred softly to her as she sat up a little, his fingers caressing her hip above her shift, slowly _ hitching it up! _

She tried to keep her voice even. "What do you have to do today besides the dinner later?" She asked curiously. The hem of her shift was half way up her thigh now. His eyes were filled with mischief.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go for a walk around town?" He asked. He glanced down at her hip, where her thighs were completely exposed now. The hem of her shift was all balled up in his hand. "Figured it'd be good practice for this evening where we'll need to be a _ couple. _"

Sansa swallowed thickly and nodded. She gasped in surprise when he suddenly yanked her towards him using his hold on her dress. She went falling into him, her hands bracing his shoulders for support. She tried to pull herself back up to a sitting position but his arms wrapped tightly around her. She had to suppress her smile.

_ "Or," _ he started, allowing her to lift her head high enough to look at him properly. "We could stay right here." His voice was low and almost taunting. Her eyes widened. _ Was he being serious? _

"Do you mean…?" She breathed out in question and he smirked.

"That I'd like to kiss my wife? Then yes." He replied cheekily and she felt the blush heat her cheeks.

His hand caressed the side of her face sweetly before he leaned forward to claim her lips. She subconsciously sighed into his mouth at the feeling. His lips were gentle and soft and yet at the same time, demanding of her attention. She hesitantly reciprocated his kisses, getting the hang of it faster than the last time.

One of his hands -Sansa was far too distracted to identity which one- tangled in her hair, while the other stayed at her waist. The hand at her hip was no longer focusing on balling up her shift, and instead, it slipped beneath the fabric. She paused their kissing momentarily when his hand moved up and down the length of her body underneath her shift; starting at her hip his hand moved up and up and _ up _, but he avoided the side of her breast and instead, slipped his hand around to feel her bare back. All while his eyes bored into hers. Intense and lustful.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to feel this skin?" He asked her, surprising her. She shook her head, furrowing her brow.

Then _ down _ his hand went, along her spine, paying extra attention to each vertebrae. She figured he'd stop at the small of her back but he had other ideas. She gasped slightly, eyes wide, when he smoothed his hand over the swell of her behind… over her small clothes. He chuckled beneath her, making her flush from embarrassment.

His lips connected with hers again, more urgently and demanding than before. She tried desperately to kiss him back with equal skill, in vain of course, while trying to ignore the hand squeezing her bottom possessively.

She definitely didn't _ hate _ the sensation… she supposed if she was less nervous and confused she may even like him touching her bottom, but her heart was hammering against her ribcage and she wasn't sure if she should be preparing herself for losing her maidenhead or not.

His hand moved from her bottom to the back of her thigh and he gripped her tightly there, inching her closer to him.

She gasped into his mouth when he rolled them around suddenly, so he was pressing over top of her. She found she wasn't exactly sure where to put her hands and as if he read her mind, he moved her hands up to his chest with his own. She hesitantly began exploring _ his _ body. First, his shoulders, which she found broad and strong. _ He was stronger than she thought he was _, she realized as she ran her hands along his arms.

She felt something run along the seal of her lips and quickly realized it was his tongue. She froze and her reaction elicited another chuckle from him.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked as he pulled away and her eyes fluttered open. She let a slow breath out, shaking her head. The answer was honest… she enjoyed his kisses immensely. A little surprise crossed his expression before it was replaced with… _ happiness? _ Or was that just lust again? It was hard to tell the difference.

Then his lips were on hers and she felt his tongue easing her lips to part again. This time she let him, easing her lips open and allowing his tongue to mingle with hers. It felt a deeper connection than before… like she was closer to him… a part of him somehow.

He was caressing his tongue against hers in a rhythm that made her head spin. She joined in eventually, feeling him in return… searching his mouth like he had done to hers. Soon he jabbed his tongue playfully against hers and she felt herself smile against him.

A sudden boldness came over her and she nibbled on his bottom lip. She was surprised when he groaned against her, but now knowing he had enjoyed her boldness, she did it again but harder. In response he pressed himself against her firmly and it was her turn to make a noise, having felt that hardness again… except it seemed harder and bigger than before. She intended it to be a gasp but when he pulled back to stare hungrily at her with blown pupils, she understood how far-from-innocent it sounded. She couldn't possibly have just _ moaned _, could she?

His lips connected with her neck and for a second she was confused. _ What's he do- ohh. _ She hummed in agreement as he kissed thoroughly at her neck.

His hands eased her legs to part beneath him and that pounding in her heart returned. _ Is he going to…? _ She started to panic a little, realizing now that perhaps he _ was _ right by saying she wasn't ready. But he wasn't making a move to remove either of their clothes and even with the little to no experience she had, she knew that needed to happen first, so she took a deep breath and parted her legs as he insisted.

He placed himself between them, his hardness pressed on her lower tummy. Something stirred in her at the feeling, some kind of tingle and warmth that demanded her attention as it spread down to her most sacred area. _ What the hell was that? _

He eased her to wrap her legs around his waist with his hands and she did as he insisted. His kisses on her neck got hungrier by the second. He began to rock his body against hers, and Sansa gasped multiple times at the feeling.

She'd never felt anything like it. He was moving against her as if he were inside her and it was so hot Sansa felt her body giving into him completely. She began to roll her hips against his and he groaned quietly in response to her decision. He was rock hard against her. This time she _ knew _ it was his… manhood.

"_ Mmm _ , I have to stop." He suddenly blurted out, as he pulled his lips away from her neck. He slowed his pace to a stop and took a few deep breaths. She frowned in confusion. He must do _ something _to ease the ache between her legs. He can't just leave her like this? Surely he must be feeling that way too.

He sat up on his knees and looked down at her with a sick kind of pleasure. "May I use the bathroom first? I have something that demands my immediate attention."

She frowned deeper. "Wait, are you going to just…" She didn't know how to finish her sentence. _ Leave me wanting? Needing? _ She can't possibly say that to him. Her eyes must have been wide enough for him to understand. He smirked and leaned down towards her, a hand on either side of her head.

"You can finish by yourself, can't you?" He asked slyly and she stared at him as if he had two heads. _ Finish herself? _ Finish what? Finish _ how? _ He chuckled and shifted his weight onto his right arm as he reached with his other to find her hand. He brought it down, _ underneath _her nightgown to press against her clothed sex. She gasped. Why was it so wet down there? Did she get her moonblood early? She panicked for a moment.

"Move your fingers against yourself in a way that feels good." He told her. "Did you watch what my whores were doing to each other yesterday?" Sansa gulped but nodded slowly. He smirked. _ "Try it." _

She must have looked exactly how she felt: _ sick _ with the idea of touching herself, because he sighed and grabbed her hand again. He moved her palm in circles over a little hard nub underneath her small clothes. She gasped at the pleasure it brought.

"See, not so hard." He paused, letting go of her and rolling off the bed. This time, because he didn't wear a tunic to sleep, she could _ see _ his arousal tenting his breeches. Her eyes immediately fell to the bulge and he couldn't stop the smirk from forming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your thoughts!
> 
> I feel sinful when it comes to this story for many reasons ;)


	5. Metamorphic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting a lot more often now.
> 
> As an apology, here is a nice long chapter.

She hadn't done what he had told her to, of course. She was a _ lady. _ A lady does _ not _ touch herself. Not like that.

She wasn't some lust crazed beast.

But… if she would have… would she still ache like she does now? Would she be this uncomfortable?

She pressed her thighs tightly together at every opportunity she had, which wasn't often seeing as they were walking most of the time.

Her arm was linked with Petyr's as she held up the hem of her dress with the other hand. It was a beautiful day, but it had clearly rained the night before, for the mud would have surely ruined her dress had she not kept it up the whole time.

"Short stemmed red rose for my lady, please." Petyr said, halting their stroll to talk to the elderly woman sitting on the curb tending to bouquet after bouquet of roses. Some were white, pink, red and even _ blue. _Sansa's eyes widened at the sight of their beauty.

Petyr unlinked their arms and pulled up his breeches slightly so he could bend down before the woman.

She looked up at him with a wide smile and sifted through the red bouquet to find the perfect one. Petyr pointed at one near the center and the woman nodded enthusiastically as if telling him that she had thought the very same thing. He took the rose in one hand and placed three shiny coins in one of her's with the other. Her hand was very shaky and Sansa could identify every vein in her hand as she took the money.

She placed her hand over his arm as a thankyou and Petyr smiled charmingly as he nodded and pulled away. He turned to her, tucking her hair behind one of her ears and pinning it back with the rose.

"Beautiful." He breathed, smirking at her blushing cheeks. She hated that she reacted this way to him at times. But at times like these he was being sweet.

He leaned in close, his lips almost pressed against her earlobe. _ "I think a romantic gesture such as that would warrant a kiss, sweetling, don't you agree?" _

Oh yes, they were _ pretending. _ Sansa thought it strange that somehow she didn't feel like they were pretending. It didn't feel like a game. It felt very, incredibly real.

She tried to bite back her _ ridiculously _giddy smile, but by the look on his face, he had seen it. She swallowed thickly and braced herself on his shoulders for support as she leaned up on tippy toes to press a sweet kiss against his lips.

It was slightly longer and firmer than the one on their wedding night, but not nearly as passionate and _ dare she say _ hungry, than the ones they shared this morning.

He grinned as she pulled away and reached for her hand to continue their walk.

Sansa had linked arms with many of men and women in her days… it was a regular occurrence when walking with someone… but holding hands was brand new to her.

His hand cupped hers at first and it felt almost parental. But then his hand twisted and his fingers interlaced between hers. She felt that _ god damn _ flutter again. She smiled shyly as she squeezed his hand with a gentle pressure.

She still didn't know how to feel around her husband. He had secrets, that she knew… and she feels a little scared at times; rightfully so, for he's a dangerous man. She knew that to be true as well. Though at times like these… when he was sweet and attentive to her… it made her feel crazy for ever fearing him. And at times she gets that familiar little flutter in her stomach when he's near; when he speaks to her and (good gods) _ touches _ her.

She sort of… _ liked _ being his wife like this.

This morning she was frightened (anxious, more like) and extremely nervous, though she enjoyed what occurred between the two of them.

She felt dizzy at the thought of it going any further, mind you, which she took as a clear indication that _ no _ she wasn't quite ready yet. Though she also knew of the consequences she would suffer if anyone found out, which Sansa thought was sure to happen for many reasons: if something comes up and she needs to be examined down below… the master will see her hymen intact, or they'll have a different handmaiden that will exploit their secret when she sees clean dry sheets every morning… _ or _ if any longer goes by without her stomach growing. Now, of course, they may assume she is infertile instead… but Sansa couldn't see that shame being any less worse than the shame of being a maiden.

Therefore, even though she knew he was right about her not being fully ready yet… she still wanted him to get it over with. She still wanted to persuade him… convince, _ seduce _ him. Could she seduce such a man into his own bed?

She'd need help.

She was torn from her thoughts when Petyr suddenly changed directions and pulled her into a quaint shop. It was beautifully furnished and smelled fresh, unlike the streets outside. Sansa immediately knew they were in the fanciest part of town; they must have walked there while Sansa wasn't paying attention.

There were all sorts of fabrics, silks, and dresses. It was clear it was fancy boutique… and expensive at that.

Sansa gaped at the clothing around her. Being pretty good at stitching herself… this was an absolute dream for her.

"Gilly." Petyr greeted with his _ charming as ever _ smile.

The woman, a bit younger than Petyr himself by the looks of it, spun around. She smiled immediately.

"My lord!" She exclaimed, moving around her wooden desk to shake his hand in friendly greeting. "My it's been quite some time since I've seen you." The woman paused, turning to look Sansa's way. "This must be the wife I've heard some gossip about."

Sansa blushed, _ what gossip!? _

"Sansa." He introduced. "My love, this is Gilly. She tends to my wardrobe needs." He smiled slyly and Sansa accepted Gilly's offered hand.

_ My love. _

Something about it stuck with her.

"Tell me, sweetling…" He turned to her, letting go of her hand, to her dismay. "Have you ever had a professional sew you a custom dress made of the finest dornish silks and lace?"

Her eyes bulged. He was going to have a dress made for her? A real one. Made for _ only _ her body to fit in it.

He chuckled lightly. "Gilly," his attention shifted. "You know my taste. Money as always is not an issue… I want the loveliest quality and materials you have for my darling wife."

It was a blur to Sansa. She could barely make out what was happening. The next thing she knew, she was standing on a small platform with string tied around her chest and waist.

"I'm thinking… three." Petyr thought aloud, the tips of his fingers playing with his goatee as his arms crossed over his chest while he watched Gilly work. "One should be warm. Burnt colours, I think… like that stunning hair of hers."

Gilly nodded along, her eyes brightening at the mention of Sansa's hair colour. "Oh! Yes, I was wondering if the lady would let me take a few strands so I know what shade to accent in the dress?"

"Excellent idea. It's not a shade you want to be guessing and the dress could look very out of place if it isn't _ exactly _right…" Her husband agreed, trailing off the end of his sentence. Sansa nodded when Gilly looked at her expectantly. She smiled widely and took two strands, folding them safely in a white handkerchief and tucking them away.

"Then I was thinking something to match her eyes. Aqua greens and blues, if you will." He pondered. "What would you say her eyes are, Gilly? I can't quite pinpoint the shade. Maya is too light and faded, but azure is too dark."

"Cerulean, my lord Petyr." She corrected, before withdrawing her last measured string and allowing Sansa to step down beside her husband.

Petyr grinned. "Cerulean." He nodded. "That's why I buy all my clothes from you." He winked at the woman and she rolled her eyes playfully before scribbling notes down on a pad of paper atop her desk. He turned to Sansa. "It will be similar to the one I had ordered and gave you last night, but bolder. And, of course, it shall fit you like a glove; accentuate every curve." He smirked, eyes straying from her eyes to travel south.

He turned to Gilly again. "And then something more… mature. Grey, silver, black." Gilly nodded in understanding.

"They will be done in a few days time, my lord. Will you want them sent to your chambers?" Gilly asked and Petyr took a step closer to the desk to talk properly with her.

"If you could, Gilly, that'd be wonderful. Send the bill with them, please." He smiled, saying his goodbyes before they left.

"My lord, you didn't need to do that for me. I'm still overwhelmed with the last dress you bought me." She said politely and he took her hand again, making her smile.

"I like when you smile." He simply replied and her eyebrows rose slightly in surprise.

She was even more surprised when he abruptly stopped walking, _ in the middle of the street, _ and pulled her body sharply towards his so she went stumbling into his chest. He licked his lips and leaned in close again.

"Three dresses…" He started, voice low. Sansa just _ knew _ he was up to no good. "I'd say that warrants at _ least _ three more kisses."

Sansa rolled her eyes but blushed anyways. "Oh I see why you're _ really _ doing this." She joked and he smirked, waiting for her.

And sighed dramatically, as if kissing him were a task she needed to complete. A _ chore _. As if kissing him didn't ignite a raging fire inside her body and mind (and heart?).

She made to lean upwards again but he didn't let her get there, for his mouth came crashing down on hers. It was more than three kisses, that she was sure of.

His hands gripped her tightly against him as he kissed her thoroughly. She sighed (happily?) into his mouth before pulling away and placing a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Petyr, there are people watching." She reminded him, glancing around at the pedestrians staring at them.

"That's the point, love." He replied and Sansa bit down on her bottom lip.

"Well… that's enough."

He smirked in reply before leaving one last chaste kiss on her lips. "If the lady says so."

.

Shae was finishing up with the curls in her hair when Sansa got an idea.

"Shae… is it only whores that dress in those provocative outfits, or do ladies do it to impress their husbands, too?" She asked, gazing at herself in the mirror.

The dress he had fashioned for her was stunning, but she couldn't stop thinking about how perfect the dresses he got her today will fit. Professionally fitted. Professionally designed and sculpted.

"Ladies can wear them, too, Lady Sansa." She replied cautiously. "You wish to entice Lord Baelish, don't you?"

Sansa bit down awkwardly on her bottom lip. She shrugged. "I was hoping you could get something for me? Something pretty but also… sexy. I don't want it to be too provocative, mind you."

Shae hesitated. "Lady Sansa, forgive me but… perhaps you should just let things go as they are? Perhaps it's a good thing he hasn't bed you yet."

Sansa twisted her mouth in thought. "I just want to make the best of what I was given and I don't want to be known as the maiden that her own brothel keeper husband won't touch. I just… want it to be simple. I just want this to be over with."

Shae nodded in understanding. "Well, you're finished. You look beautiful." Shae told her and Sansa turned around to face her better. "I will get you something by tomorrow, my lady." She finally agreed and Sansa smiled, thanking her.

Her lord husband picked her up not long after, raving about how gorgeous she looked.

"They… King Joffrey especially, will be a handful this evening." He told her as they walked. "He will test your patience. Don't let him get to you."

She nodded along, tightening her grip on his arm. "But luckily you'll have me in there to defend you this time, sweetling."

She smiled up at him and he smirked in return, pushing open the grand doors that will lead to a very stressful evening for the both of them.

.

"Lord Baelish, Lady Baelish." Joffrey greeted with a sly smirk as the couple approached the table. They both took turns bowing to their king before Petyr pulled Sansa seat out for her.

"Thank you, my lord." She smiled sweetly up at him as he took his seat beside her.

"Your grace, we thank you deeply for such an invitation this evening." Petyr said with a gentle smile before sipping at the dark red wine placed before him. Sansa copied his actions.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Lord Baelish." Joffrey replied, a devilish expression in his eyes.

The entrees were served and everyone began eating. It was some sort of soup served in a quaint silver bowl. It was tasty, Sansa had to admit.

"My lady…" Joffrey started and Sansa internally groaned as she was addressed. She looked up expectantly. "I'd like you to tell us about your wedding night." He smirked horridly.

Sansa swallowed thickly, looking over at her husband and then at Cersei. The Queen Regent cleared her throat before resting her veined hand upon the king's arm.

"Darling, the wedding night of Lord and Lady Baelish is not an event to discuss during dinner-"

_ "I _am the king. I will decide what is discussed over my dinner table and I'd like to hear the dirty details of Sansa Stark's deflowering!" He viciously replied.

Petyr's hand found hers and he squeezed reassuringly. Sansa found strength from him and held her chin high.

"She is… an absolute sight, and she was that night, too." Petyr started, so she wouldn't have to say anything. "It was an exquisite evening in which we enjoyed each other multiple times." He smirked, his eyes finding hers.

Joffrey was smirking. "I asked the _ lady _, Lord Baelish." He replied smartly.

The entire table looked uncomfortable, but Tywin Lannister looked more annoyed than anyone. Sansa bit down nervously on her bottom lip. How was she to give details? There were none to give and she didn't have the knowledge to make things up because she was so _ inexperienced _because her husband refused to do his duty.

"Lady Sansa…" Joffrey started. "Tell us… did your husband fuck you hard?"

Petyr coughed loudly beside her, clearly not pleased with the way Joffrey was speaking to his wife.

Sansa chewed on her cheek but it seemed she was expected to answer, so she cleared her voice quietly before answering Joffrey the same way she answered the Queen Regent the day after her wedding night.

"My husband was gentle and sweet and… I enjoyed it very much, thank you for asking, your grace." She said and Petyr squeezed her hand again. Joffrey scoffed.

"Shame. I figured a brothel keeper of all professions would know how to fuck a woman properly." He teased, smirking in a twisted sort of way at Sansa's husband.

Petyr ignored the jab, but she could tell it was bothering him. He was a man after all and Joffrey was embarrassing him… the least she could do is remedy the embarrassment she had just caused him.

"Sorry, your grace… I just meant the _ first _ time he was sweet with me." She quickly added and everyone, including Petyr, turned to her in surprise. Joffrey leaned forwards with anticipation. "After that… well-" she fake-blushed. "It is… _ clear _ who is in charge between the bedsheets."

Petyr's eyes widened and a satisfied smirk grew across his face. He interlaced their finger's atop the table for all to see. Joffrey scowled slightly as he withdrew himself back into his chair.

Dinner was served next and the entire table was silent as they began eating. It was quite delicious and Sansa enjoyed every bite until Joffrey opened his mouth again.

"Tell me how he tastes, my lady."

Petyr's hand immediately moved to her thigh, where he squeezed reassuringly. She frowned slightly in confusion.

"Your grace…?" She questioned and he snickered.

"A good wife would take it in her mouth and _ swallow _." He replied. "How does she suck, Lord Baelish?"

Petyr was glaring. Glaring hard, too.

_ Suck? Swallow? What in the seven hells is he talking about? _

"Perhaps…" Petyr started, his voice dangerously low. "We should give you a demonstration, _ your grace, _ seeing as you're so interested in what goes on between my wife and I. We could show you right here… on the dinner table, if you'd like." Sansa swore he didn't blink as he stared King Joffrey down. "Then you can witness the _ dirty details _ for yourself. Hear how she screams for me."

Sansa's cheeks flushed bright red at Petyr's words. She felt extremely uncomfortable, yes, but the gentle caresses of Petyr's hand on her thigh calmed her down immensely. He was reassuring her and she felt grateful for it.

Joffrey's surprised and slightly insulted face was more than a little humorous and satisfying to Sansa. She felt some strange pull to Petyr for standing up for her… she couldn't seem to keep her eyes off of him. It was like he sensed what she was feeling, for he sent her a smirk and a quick wink, making her tummy flutter.

Tywin and Cersei made small talk, hoping to change the subject while Joffrey smirked. Sansa and Petyr tried to enjoy themselves after that; Petyr encouraged her to try a strange type of meat on her plate as he made sweet comments while Sansa giggled and blushed madly under his consistent attentions.

They were acting a true couple… though Sansa was surprised that she didn't really find herself _ acting: _ pretending. She was responding honestly to his comments and touches and sweet nicknames.

"So, Baelish…" Joffrey said randomly, disturbing the peaceful dinner they were almost finished with. He was clearly done with formalities and his tone held nothing but disdain.

Petyr's fingers were twisted in a lock of her hair as he admired it, but he turned towards his King as he was addressed and his hand fell down to rest in her lap again. Sansa took his hand to give _ him _ comfort and he squeezed her fingers gratefully.

"I'm thinking… your lady wife is going to come back with me to _ my _ chambers after dinner." He said with a vile grin. Sansa froze. "I'd like to see how she enjoys _ my _ version of rough."

The table was dead silent.

"Joffrey Baratheon." Tywin said calmly. "That is _ quite _ enough-"

"I'd like to fuck Lady Sansa till she can't walk. I'd like to fuck every hole in her body. And I _ can _ , because I'm _ king!" _Joffrey exclaimed.

"No you _ fucking _ can't!" Petyr yelled, eyes deadly and staring straight at the king. "She is my _ wife _ . She is _ not _ yours to touch or torment. She is _ mine _ and I say no, and _ that _ is finale." His words were slow and meticulously meant to insult.

Joffrey fumed. He stood abruptly from the table. "I could have you _ killed _ for speaking to me that way!" He exclaimed and suddenly a hot wave of fear coursed through Sansa at Joffrey's words.

"Then do it." He replied instantly. "Show this realm the King you _ really _ are. A coward that hides behind an executioner."

Joffrey slammed his fist down hard on the wooden table, reaching for his dinner knife. This time the other's at the table reacted, his mother yelling demands at him and his grandfather tearing the knife from his grip.

Petyr pulled Sansa up and grasped her hand tightly. "If you don't mind, your grace… my wife and I will be retiring to our _ bed _."

They began to walk away, but Sansa couldn't help herself… "I do hope we don't keep you up all night, your grace. Thank you again for a lovely dinner."

Petyr bit back a laugh as he all but dragged her from the room and through the winding halls to their bedroom. He closed and bolted the door, breathing a deep sigh before he pounced towards her and his mouth covered hers.

She gasped in surprise but kissed him back, attempting to meet him with equal fervor but the task seemed nearly impossible with the way he was kissing her now.

Her lungs burned for oxygen but her body wouldn't give up and it seemed, neither would his. His kisses were hard and full of both passion and hungry. A desire came over her and she wrapped her arms around his frame to keep him closer. She felt a growl come from his throat and she smiled against his lips at the sound.

She hadn't noticed they were even moving until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she fell backwards with a surprised gasp.

He chuckled before hastily following her and kissing her again. Her feet were still touching the floor but her back was flat against the bed, which meant Petyr had to situate himself between her knees if he wanted his chest pressed against her's… so he did.

She felt a flutter in her stomach at the position and got bolder and bolder the longer they kissed. Soon her fingers were threaded through his dark salt and pepper hair, and her legs hooked around his.

She couldn't help the giddy smile that surfaced when his right hand left her waist to find her left one and he pinned it down beside her head and interlaced their fingers together.

Her heart must have been beating a mile a minute.

Was she gaining true feelings for him? True, _ real _ affection? Yes, she must be; it was confirmed by the way her heart faltered when he pulled away and grinned down at her… dimples gracing his cheeks. He looked 20 years younger like this.

"That was brilliant, what you said to him." He told her, kissing the corner of her mouth as she giggled.

"What _ I _ said? How about what you said!?" She replied and he chuckled lightly, kissing her cheek and then her jaw. "It was sort of-" She started, but was taken aback by the pleasure his lips brought when they connected with her neck. It was like an electric spark shot through her; exactly like it had felt this morning when he had kissed down her neck.

"What was that?" He teased before licking from collarbone to earlobe in one stroke. She shivered.

"It was _ really-" _ She tried again but his teeth nibbled her skin this time, taking the breath straight from her previously-burning lungs.

_ "-hot." _ She finally finished and he pulled away. He was smirking arrogantly.

"Hot?" He repeated. She nodded, wishing he hadn't stopped kissing her. "You think I'm _ hot?" _

She pursed her lips playfully and his eyes dropped down to her mouth. "Yes." She drawled out slowly and his mouth immediately fell onto hers again to claim her mouth.

His one hand suddenly trailed downwards and when his fingers met the hem of her dress, they slipped beneath and then trailed back up. His hand was moving along her side, bringing the dress up with him. It was clear his intent was to take it off and although this has been what Sansa was waiting for this entire time… she froze and tensed up.

He felt it and immediately pulled away. They were both panting in an attempt at catching their breath. His eyes were dark with lust and she wondered if her's looked the same.

He swallowed thickly before shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I forgot for a second it was you I was kissing." Her face (and stomach) dropped, and he immediately realized his mistake. "No, no, Sansa… that's not what I meant."

She pulled her legs up and crawled into the center of the bed defensively. He followed her, leaning over her. He shook his head again.

"Sweetling, honestly. I only meant that I forgot you were a maiden for a moment there." He explained and she bit at her bottom lip nervously. "I wouldn't want to be kissing anyone but you, love."

She felt herself smile, despite her will to be mad at him. His eyes searched her face before leaning in to leave a gentle kiss on her lips.

"You can… continue." She said suddenly and he tilted his head to the side for her to explain. "I was just… nervous, but… I want you to continue doing what you were going to do." She told him and he licked his lips, eyes sweeping over her body and then back up to her eyes.

"I'd really like to see you, if that's okay?" He settled on after a moment of consideration. She frowned in confusion.

"You… you are seeing me?" She replied with uncertainty. He smirked in amusement and ran a knuckle down past her collarbone to her chest, running along her cleavage until her dress stopped him.

Instead of answering, he reached for the hem of her beautiful dress again. He pulled it up slowly, almost excruciatingly slow. His eyes were locked onto her's the entire time.

She lifted her arms when it got to her chest and he must have taken that as a sign that it was okay to go further, so he pulled it up and over her head before tossing it aside.

She knew he could tell instantly that she was uncomfortable by the way she squirmed, wanting desperately to cover her bare chest. She heard him breathe out a sigh at the sight of her.

"Darling…" He started, voice a breathless whisper. "You take my breath away, you know that?"

She was too embarrassed to smile, and she found she couldn't fight it any longer. Her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes closed tightly.

Warm fingers wrapped around both her wrists. He pulled her arms away. "Stop that. You have _ nothing _ -you hear me?- _ Nothing _, to be embarrassed about."

Her eyes opened and she was immediately met with his pale green ones, which were almost swallowed whole by his pupils.

She nodded slowly and he presented her with another heart-stopping smile. Dimples and all their glory.

He ran his hands down her sensitive tummy, chuckling when she jumped because his touch had tickled her. His skin was hot against hers.

His fingers stopped on the waistband of her small clothes… her knickers.

"I want to pull these off, too, sweetling." He told her and although the idea slightly terrified her… she knew they were making progress tonight, so she nodded again.

His fingers worked their way beneath the fabric and slid them down and off her legs. His eyes feasted on her womanhood, but the _ lady _ in her (and _ -mostly- _ the nerves) forced her to keep her knees tightly clamped together.

He tried to gently part her legs, but she wouldn't let him. "Sansa, look at me." He demanded and she did. His expression was far softer than she expected it to be. "There is _ nothing _ to be embarrassed about." He repeated. "I understand nerves, but _ I won't hurt you _. You need to trust."

Finally she gave in and laid flat on her back as she let him push her legs apart to see her fully. "Fuck, you are just _ exquisite _, Sansa sweetling."

She was blushing madly under his inspection, not expecting such language from him at a moment like this.

Sansa was ever so hopeful with the progress they've made. He would have sex with her now, wouldn't he?

"You have seen all of me, my lord. Can't I see you, too?" She asked and his eyes moved up her body to settle back on her eyes. He looked amused.

"You want to see me?" He asked, smirking. She nodded and he chuckled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

Sansa frowned immediately, closing her legs tightly together and rolling over onto her side. He sighed deeply and shifted closer to her on the bed as she pulled the silk sheets over her nakedness.

"Sansa…" He started, voice sounding tired and exasperated.

"Why do _ you _ get to say when? Hm?" She shot back. "It's not fair that you demand things of me and then don't give me something in return."

Petyr barked a laugh. "Because it takes _ two _ people to have sex, Sansa." He said bluntly. "And… I _ demanded _ things of you? I recall simply _ telling _you what I wanted and you happily obliged, but if you want to make me out as a bad guy then fine."

Sansa's eyes lowered in shame. He was right.

He sighed again. "Perhaps I should leave. I don't know how long I can be around you when you're looking like that without my self restraint snapping, anyways."

She turned sharply to look at him as he began to stand and head towards the door. He was leaving, again.

She sat up, as if to say something, but the words caught in her throat. It was going so well with him and now he's leaving her _ again! _

She lowered her head to hide the unshed tears as he approached the door. She expected to hear the slide of the lock and clank of the handle, but she didn't. Has he hesitated?

"Sansa?" His voice was soft, extremely soft, and she slowly looked up to see him a foot away from the door. He was watching her intently, clearly seeing how upset she was. "Don't, love." He added and she looked away, laying back down and covering herself again. Her back was turned to him and she quickly wiped away her tears so he wouldn't see them.

She heard him walking towards the bed and soon a warm hand rested over her bare shoulder. "Why are you upset?"

"You're always leaving. I thought we were doing well together but now you're leaving again." She muttered, her back still facing him. He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly before his hand left her. She figured she'd hear the slide of the lock this time for sure, but she still didn't. Instead, the sound that filled her ears was silence.

She wanted to turn around to see what he was doing, but she didn't feel like facing him right now so she stayed as she was. That is until the mattress dipped and a warm arm wrapped around her. A _ bare _ arm.

She turned around in his arms and he smiled at her. He had taken everything off but his briefs. She should feel embarrassed, really… being completely naked against him, but she didn't. All she felt was that she wanted to get closer.

She looked down at his chest, which was partially exposed by the sheets. She examined his scar, shiny and thin and long. So very long.

She reached up to touch it and he flinched, but didn't stop her. Her fingertips grazed the top, by his collarbone, before dipping beneath the sheets. He watched her with fascination as she traced his scar further down over his abdomen, which flinched as her fingers tickled him. She smiled every time his abdomen tightened under her fingers.

She stopped when she hit the band of his briefs, surprised that the scar went even further down. "What are you hiding from me?" She asked quietly and he seemed surprised by her boldness. "I know you're planning something."

He frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes on her. He didn't answer, just watched her.

"I don't know what it is, Petyr, but I know that something is off. I have a bad feeling." She paused. "But please don't hurt me. Please. I just want to make you happy. I just want to be your wife."

He looked down, sighing, before he reached down to pull her hand up from his lower stomach. He moved closer, wrapping his arm around her bare skin and holding her against him. The feeling of her bare chest felt amazing against his and she nuzzled herself closer, leg draping over one of his.

She was slowly fading into unconsciousness when he spoke. It was so gentle and quiet that she wasn't sure if he even meant for her to hear him or not.

_ "I won't hurt you, sweetling." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who liked sassy Sansa?? And Petyr putting Joffrey in place??


	6. Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. uhm... I know I said there would be more recent updates (...2 weeks ago) BUT in my defense, I was on vacation.
> 
> As an apology (again) here's another longish chapter!
> 
> I'm feeling... smutty, are you?  
You will now.

Sansa fingered the material.

It was a combination of silk and lace.

It was pure red. A brilliant vermillion.

A one piece.

It covered her private areas, as Sansa had requested, but it also screamed _ sex. _

It had a cute little bow on each hip and one between her breasts.

The top and bottom was connected down the center of her stomach, leaving most of her torso bare.

She tried it on, surprised by how much it pushed her breasts up… and also by how thin the knickers went in the back. Practically nonexistent!

It looked good, though.

Really, _ really _ good.

Sansa felt nervous.

Would this push him over the edge? Would he finally make her _ his? _

Sex. It was a loaded word. Would she like it? Would it hurt? Would it be a one time thing or would he want to do it every night once he starts?

Her hands were shaking slightly as she pulled on his bathrobe. It was heavy and warm and she snuggled into it. She had been nervous about this since Shae gave her the outfit this morning.

Sansa wasn't sure when he'd be back, but she wanted to be prepared for when he did return, so she sat down on the couch after having the fire lit and waited.

She reflected on their peaceful morning where she woke to the feeling of his warm fingers outlining each vertebrae of her back. Was he warming to her the way she was to him?

The dimness of the room combined with the heat of the fire made her sleepy and she soon felt herself dozing off, giddy for what his reaction would be when he sees the outfit she had made for him.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Sansa found consciousness as Petyr pulled her into his chest, carrying her towards the bed. She mumbled something incoherently as her arms tightened around his neck.

_ "Shh, _ sweetling. You fell asleep on the couch; I'm taking you to bed." He told her softly but she shook her head, yawning as she woke.

"I was waiting for you." She told him and he half smiled down at her, stopping his treck to their bed.

He was holding her bridal-style in his arms and it made her blush deeply, remembering how she was dressed.

"You're clearly tired, love. You should sleep." He told her but she frowned in disappointment.

"This is the only time I get to see you." She complained. "Can we go back to the couch?"

His half smile widened slightly as he spun around and approached the couch. Instead of placing her down where he found her, however, he kept her in his arms and sat down on the arm chair so she was situated on his lap.

"How was your day?" He asked and she leaned against his chest.

"Boring so far." She replied, smirking at the thought of what _ might _ happen. "How was yours?" She asked, looking up at him. She could only see his jaw and chin from where her head rested just under his shoulder.

"Far more exciting now." He quipped, moving her back so he could smirk down at her. She smiled, biting the corner of her mouth. He enjoyed the sight of her blushing immensely, it seemed. "We can leave for Harrenhal soon. I'm almost finished getting things in order for us."

Sansa brightened. "Oh, really!?" He chuckled, nodding. She couldn't _ wait _ to get out of King's Landing. "Will it be different there? Will the people like me?"

"Will they treat you with the love and respect you deserve? Of course they will or they'll have _ me _ to answer to." He said sternly and she smiled gratefully. _ Could this be the life she'd always wanted? _

His hand moved up to cradle the side of her face, thumb caressing her cheekbone affectionately. She sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned against the warm palm of his hand.

"Do you like my bathrobe, sweetling?" He asked, voice darker than before. When she opened her eyes again, she realized he was staring down at her body, fully covered by his heavy black robe.

She placed her hand on his chest, rubbing in circles to feel the sturdy muscles there, as well as the steady beating of his heart. He leaned towards her to place his lips upon hers with a forbearance that surprised her, for her own desires were burning red hot.

He kissed her only once before pulling away, licking her taste from his lips and humming in content. She blushed as she broke eye contact… feeling a boldness come over her as she positioned herself across his lap to straddle him with a knee on each side.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise as he watched her with dark lustful eyes. "Sansa?" He questioned with a smirk.

She leaned forward to connect their lips and she kissed him passionately like he'd taught her. He hummed again, this time into their kiss and it gave her the strength to continue kissing him; the courage to continue taking charge.

He followed her lead happily, making no objections that she was the one with the current power. She felt him twisting a lock of her hair around his finger and smiled against his lips as her own fingers wove their way into his hair. As she scraped his scalp, she felt him groan gently… the vibrations travelling down her throat, making her shiver.

Gods, he was a phenomenal kisser. Did he know how good of a kisser he was? Did he think she was a bad kisser?

Sansa pulled away to catch her breath and when she did, his lips immediately connected with the corner of her mouth and then her cheek before he leaned back to watch her.

She blushed, as always under his gaze, and he smiled. He licked his lips with one swipe of his tongue while tilting his head to the side to examine her. She thought he was going to say something -scold her maybe- but all he did was reach up to tuck the strand of hair he was previously playing with, behind her ear.

She shifted on his lap -moved closer- and he closed his eyes briefly at the feeling. _ So that felt good? _ Sansa moved as close as she could until their lower halves were completely connected. It felt good for her, too. There was an insistent throbbing down below and she seemed to get some relief when she was pressed against him.

She felt something hard beneath her again and this time she was determined to know if it were _ him _. She reached for the ties of his tunic and pulled at them, freeing him from the material as she opened it and pushed it from his shoulders. She figured he'd stop her, but instead he leaned forwards so she could get the clothing fully off of his shoulders.

She wanted to see him.

She made to take off his shirt as well, but this time he did stop her, fingers wrapped around her thin wrists. She pouted at him, and he narrowed his eyes on her, clearly amused.

"Why not?" She asked, sounding like a child who was denied candy. She sort of felt like one. 

His jaw clenched and he averted his eyes. Was he self conscious? Because of his scar? He had let her investigate it just last night.

"Petyr?" The use of his real name grabbed his attention and he looked straight into her eyes. The intensity of it caught her off guard for a second. She swallowed thickly. "It's just a scar." She whispered.

"It's ugly." He countered and she felt like laughing. He really _ was _ self conscious!

"No it isn't." She said sternly and he sighed, slightly frustrated. That's not what she wants! She needed to make him feel better.

She reached down and untucked his shirt from his breeches, slipping her hand inside to feel his chest. He breathed out a surprised breath, before chuckling lightly. "Your hands are cold." He complained and she smiled in amusement.

She leaned closer to him, her lips just grazing his ear. _ "I think your scar is sexy." _ She whispered, pulling back to catch his reaction. His eyes were dark and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

She made to remove his shirt again but he stopped her…_ again! _

She was about to protest, but his actions stopped her; he reached for the tie of his bathrobe she was wearing. _ This was it, _ she thought with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

He was looking down as he pulled the tie obnoxiously slowly. Finally it was undone and the robe split in the middle. He pulled it open further before abruptly stopping. She heard his breath hitch and she considered it a win.

He was frozen for a long moment as he looked down at the scarlet one piece she wore proudly. His eyes slowly moved up to hers and she found herself biting her bottom lip nervously. His eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them and something twitched beneath her.

"What's this?" He asked slowly, eyes boring deeply into hers. She took an unsteady breath as she tried to hold his lustful gaze.

"A present." She said simply, slightly scared -but mostly excited- about the look in his eyes. "For you." She added and he made an animalistic noise… some kind of growl from deep in his throat. "Do you like it?" She pushed further and he licked at his lips for the third time that evening.

_ "Do I like it?" _ He repeated, his moving down to her body once again. He pushed the bathrobe completely off of her body, hot hands bracing her shoulders. He ran one of his hands down the valley of her breasts, past her stomach to stop just below her belly button. She shivered, blushing deeply at how affected her body was by him.

His hands moved to grip her hips tightly, holding her firmly atop him. He was gazing at every inch of her, seemingly considering something (_ sex _ , she hoped) before he let go of her entirely and she deflated. _ She still hadn't convinced him!? _

"Stand up." He demanded with a deep, dark voice. His eyes were onyx-black as he stared her down. She frowned slightly, upset, before following his command and standing.

He leaned back in the chair, dragging his eyes up and down her body. "Back up." Was his next command. She huffed, folding her arms across her chest and backing up a few steps. _ "No." _ He snapped, staring at her arms. She bit her lip, starting to realize that he wasn't, in fact, done with her… he just wanted to get a good look at her.

She uncrossed her arms, fighting back a smile. He tilted his head to the side, a smirk gracing his face. He lifted one finger, signalled his want for her to spin around for him. She did, trying desperately to keep the giddy smile from surfacing. As she spun around for the second time he told her to stop when her back faced him and she did, feeling only slightly uncomfortable that he was obviously staring at her almost-completely bare behind.

_ "Tsk tsk tsk…" _ He clicked his tongue, causing her to spin back around to face him. She could clearly see the bulge in his pants and when he realized where she was looking, he let his hand rest right beside it, teasingly so. "What am I going to do with you?" He asked to no one in particular as he slowly moved his hand along the side of the tent in his breeches. _ Such a tease! _

Slowly he stood, walking towards her. She felt like she was being hunted. She felt like she was his prey, and perhaps she was. He didn't stop until he was right in front of her, his body touching hers. His _ hardness _ touching her.

"Tell me what you want, Sansa." He said and she blinked in surprise. _ What she wants? _ "Tell me what you _ want." _He repeated, voice more stern.

"I-" She hesitated. What is she supposed to say? -I want you to have sex with me. I want you to make me yours, _ finally. _ I want something more than _ this. _

He cocked an eyebrow in question, face dead serious. "I-" She started again. "Just…" She swallowed down the lump in her throat. _ "More." _ She settled on and something sparkled in his eyes.

He began to move, closing in on her space until she got the idea to back up. He followed her closely as they moved backwards. His hands didn't move to touch her and nor did his mouth… just his solid body against hers.

She really wasn't sure what she was supposed to expect from him right now.

Once her back hit the wall she was forced to stop and he closed in on her, _ finally _ kissing her. It wasn't sweet or slow like most of the kisses they shared, but hot and hard and all passion-driven. She wasn't even sure how to keep up, as he was all but devouring her.

His hands were just as hungry, moving over every inch of her body. She gasped into his open mouth when one of his hands squeezed her right breast with possessiveness. It was hard enough for pain to shoot down her spine, but somehow it was a welcome pain; it was the kind of pain that made her even more in need… even more wanting.

His other hand grabbed at her behind, making her squeak in surprise, before yanking up on the back of her leg to get it to wrap around his waist. She gasped again, feeling his hardness right at her center, rubbing against her. The feeling made her head spin. She clung to him when a hand snaked between their bodies to rub teasingly at the place she felt hot desire pooling.

He was not going easy on her.

"Is this what you want?" He growled in her ear, voice rough and husky. She whimpered in response and he _ chuckled. _ Actually-bloody-chuckled.

She finally got her hands to move from where they were frozen against his shoulders. First caressing the thick locks of his hair before moving down to the planes of his back. His skin was so hot she could feel it through his shirt. At the thought of it, she slipped her hands beneath his shirt to better feel his back, finally getting the shirt over his head so her mostly-bare torso could press against his. He gripped her tighter in response and she pulled back with a loud gasp when he moved the bottom part of her outfit to the side so he could feel her bare skin.

They were both panting as they stared at each other, his fingers running along her slit, which had dampened substantially. _ It felt so good. _

"You're so _ wet, _ sweetling." He announced, pressing firmly against a spot that made her jolt. He smirked devilishly.

She was thoroughly embarrassed that he was touching her there… she wasn't sure of the things she was supposed to do to prepare herself for a man. There was hair down there… would he find it gross? Would he demand she get rid of it? _ Should _ she have gotten rid of it already? He'd already seen her naked...

Also… his fingers must be soaked… was it normal to be wet down there at a time like this? Were there things a lady is supposed to do hygiene-wise before something like this? She cursed herself for not asking Shae these things earlier.

He seemed to notice her hesitation and his fingers stilled _ (and what skilled fingers they were…). _ "Sansa," he lifted her chin to face him. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes widened. '_ No _ , he will _not_ stop because of my insecurities.'

"No! I… I'm just worried that I haven't prepared myself the way I should have for you…" She told him, biting the inside of her cheek.

He frowned slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?" He asked and she sighed, embarrassed.

She could still feel his hand moving against her, just far slower than before. She felt the urge to wiggle her hips… to grid herself against his hand, but the thought was so unlady like that she blushed.

She felt far too awkward to talk to him about this, but he _is_ her husband and she should be telling him these things. Besides, if she doesn't tell him the truth about her hesitation, she feared he may stop.

She closed her eyes and sighed before blurting out. "Hair. Is-am I supposed to, uh, shave that?"

He began to laugh, not chuckle like he normally does, but full-on laugh. She hit his shoulder with a closed fist, embarrassed that he was laughing at her.

"I'm sorry, sweetling." He slowly stopped his laughs, his fingers moving through her folds at a pleasurable pace once again. "It's your body, love. If you want to shave then by all means…" He paused as she considered what he was saying. _ "But _, if I have any say in it… I like you how you are. You have cute little red curls and I like them."

Her blush intensified tenfold and she kissed him immediately. Maybe this pairing wasn't a bad thing at all. She found she very much liked this man. In fact, she feels something rather strong for him. She could certainly be happy.

Soon his mouth left hers to kiss and suck at her jaw and then her neck, stopping to bite her earlobe on the way. She closed her eyes, enjoying his attentions of both his hands and his mouth.

He kissed down the valley of her breasts and she rested her hands upon his head, not knowing what else to do with them. Her fingers twisted in his hair as he kissed down her stomach, all while his fingers worked her up.

They were getting close, she could feel it. He would need some release soon, too, right? Normally she would be wondering _ when _ he'll take her… normally she would feel impatient for him to do so, but his hands and mouth felt so nice against her skin that she didn't have room in her mind for anything but the pleasure of this moment.

Soon enough he was kneeling on one knee in front of her, his tongue swirling around her belly button. He used the hand that was previously holding her hip sternly, to lift one of her legs again… this time to drape it over one of his shoulders.

She was curious as to what his plan was, but allowed him to do whatever he wanted regardless. His mouth abruptly moved down to her thigh and he nipped at the skin there, causing her to gasp quietly.

"You think you can seduce me, Sansa?" He asked dangerously from below her. Her eyes opened to look down at him as his mouth returned to her thigh, giving her a smacking kiss there.

"It seemed to have worked." She teased, trying to look confident as she smirked down at him. He grinned up at her knowingly. It was strange to be above him; to feel such power.

"Oh? _ You're _ seducing _ me _ , are you?" He countered, giving her inner thigh a small lick. She shuddered thinking _ 'he's getting awfully close…' _.

Suddenly an image appeared in her mind. The two whores she had seen in Petyr's office not too long ago. One of them had their mouth on the other's…

Sansa's eyes widened as she stared down at him. He smirked wickedly in return, as if he'd noticed that she only just figured out what he was about to do.

Then his mouth covered her and instantaneously her breath hitched in the back of her throat. All power she previously felt she gained over him, immediately shifted back.

_ Gods… _

_ She didn't even care that she felt so powerless... as long as he stayed there forever... _

His tongue flicked out and she felt her legs tremble. He gripped her tightly as he moved his lips against her, his tongue lapping at her like an animal from time to time.

Her fingers pulled hard on his hair as she pushed her hips out towards him, offering a better angle.

"Greedy little girl." He purred as his mouth returned to where she was aching for him.

His lips wrapped around an extra sensitive area and he suckled on her there, causing her to squirm before _ finally _letting out a moan that she could no longer keep muffled. She felt him smile against her at the sound.

_ Oh, yes. This was glorious. _

Sansa never knew something could feel so good.

He urged her to drape her other leg over his shoulder and she followed his lead, balancing herself as he lifted her. Without stopping his ministrations, he carried her over to their shared bed and threw her down on it. She was only without him for a moment, for he crawled after her, burying his face between her legs again with a thirst she never knew a man could possess for the taste of a woman.

Her back arched as he worked her up, desire coiling in her stomach like a spring ready to burst at any moment.

He groaned beneath her and the vibrations made her moan in response as pleasure shot through her like lightning.

"You taste _ devine _, sweetling." He praised her, making eye contact as he continued to devour her as if she were the most delicious dessert he'd ever had the privilege of tasting.

Soon the pleasure became too much and she could feel herself getting close to snapping. She had no idea what happened when this feeling inside her finally exploded, but it felt way too good to stop either way. God's, she wished he'd do this to her forever.

She was squirming, subconsciously lifting her hips in rhythm with his tongue. It was horrifyingly embarrassing, yes, but it was like she was no longer in control of her own body. Petyr was in complete control of her. He could do whatever he wished to her right now and she'd happily comply.

"My name, Sansa." He told her sternly before working her again. _ His name? _ She wasn't quite sure what that meant. Was it a request? -must be.

Soon she felt something prodding her and she quickly realized it was his finger. His mouth was still pleasuring her relentlessly, but she was now focused on the teasing his finger was doing.

She gasped loudly when he began to push in. So that was it, then? That was her entrance… that is where _ he _ is supposed to go. His... hardness.

The pressure felt good, especially when he began moving his finger in and out of her, his tongue adding pressure on a little bud that make her whimper and tighten her legs around him.

It wasn't long after that she felt a quake in her body. Something had burst and ripples of pleasure shot through her. She gasped and moaned low. All sorts of mewls and other sounds escaping her lips.

_ "Petyr…" _ She whispered, breathless from the pleasure of it all. Gods if sex was anything like this…

They will do it every night. Every available opportunity.

Her fingers tightened in his hair again and, once again, he groaned beneath her. Did he like it when she pulled his hair? -The thought made her grin.

Her chest was heaving by the time he stopped, crawling up her body before rolling to the side and laying on his back beside her.

Her eyes were closed as her body thrummed blissfully. Though she was aware by the obnoxiously loud popping sound that he had sucked her juices from his fingers.

Redness crept up her neck and settled on heating her cheeks as she slowly opened her eyes and turned to look at him.

His attention was on her. She bit at the side of her cheek at the sight of how wet his mustache had become from her. Her eyes travelled down to the hardness still tenting his breeches, watching him run his hand along it, stopping to squeeze as his brows furrowed in what appeared to be… _ pain. _

Did it hurt? "Are you okay?" She asked him hesitantly and he half smiled.

"Of course, sweetling." He told her but she could tell he was lying.

"That was really nice." She told him, smiling shyly.

"Yeah?" He looked hopeful and it made Sansa happy that he wasn't _ always _ so confident about himself. It made her feel more confident in herself because she knew she was new at everything. Learning.

She smiled all giddy. "Yes. Very nice."

He smiled, nodding as he looked up at the ceiling. He seemed content with himself for making her feel so good. "Does it hurt?" She asked timidly, glancing down at the bulge in his breeches again.

He chuckled. "I'm fine-"

"Do you need me to do something?" She interrupted him and he clenched his jaw tightly, the muscles working. He shook his head. "Are… are we going to-"

"No Sansa." He said sternly. She looked down, sighing. She put in all this effort and _ still _ he rejected her.

They were quiet for a long, tense moment.

"Do you still want to see me?" He asked quietly, almost as an afterthought. Sansa blinked in surprise, glancing down at the erection he was still deftly stroking.

"Yes." She replied after missing a beat.

He flashed her a cheeky grin as he moved his hands up to the lacing of his breeches and pulled. "I need _ something _ after that." He told her, reaching inside his trousers to stroke real skin.

He closed his eyes briefly at the feeling. Sansa still couldn't see him, but she had sat herself up with anxious expectations.

Soon he freed himself and his member was in the open for her to view. She tilted her head to the side as she examined it with curiosity. It was big, she couldn't deny. Not gigantic by any means but big, for sure (not that she knew what to compare it to). She briefly wondered how it'd fit inside her if he were to _ ever do that. _ It wasn't ugly at all, which is what most of the ladies would gossip to Sansa about in the gardens; she was told they were all very ugly, but Petyr's wasn't. It was quite long, but what surprised her was his thickness… it wouldn't fit, no way. There were veins as well but it only added to how exquisite it was to Sansa. And she found that she liked the trail of hair from belly button to navel.

"It's not supposed to be pretty, love. That's what I have you for." He told her, making her blush shamelessly.

"I actually disagree." He looked up in surprise as he stroked himself, so Sansa continued. "I think it's very pleasant to look at." She informed him, making him shake his head in amusement, half rolling his eyes.

His hand was moving slowly up and down the length of it and the actions made her even more curious. She wanted to try…

He stopped her when she made to reach down and sent her a stern look. She pouted, making him smirk.

"Does that feel good to you?" She asked curiously as his hand moved.

He chuckled. "Yes." He admitted shamelessly, hand moving faster. "Did it feel good when I feasted on your cunt?" Her eyes just about popped out of her head as she gaped at him. He chuckled again, far darker than last time. "Did it?" He pressed further.

"I-I…" She stuttered, face burning. _ God's yes it did. _

"You…?" He mocked her, clearly amused.

"I… _ did _ like it." She admitted, biting her bottom lip. He hummed happily as his chest heaved from the pleasure being brought from his own hand. "Petyr, I… I want to help. I want to do something for you, too."

He groaned, but it was muffled. It looked almost like her offer had pained him. He was considering it, though… she could tell.

He moved his hand even faster but it was as if his palm wasn't enough after her suggestion. His hand stilled eventually and he looked slightly frustrated. He was panting as he slowly gave in. "Okay." He nodded slowly as he looked over at her. "Give me your hand."

She listened immediately, excited. He eagerly placed her small hand on the soft skin of his manhood. Sansa was taken aback by how hard and hot it was. Like all his blood was rushing in that direction.

He groaned low at the contact, his hand squeezing hers to inevitably squeeze his member. He looked up at the ceiling as he guided her hand up and down him, pausing occasionally to swipe his thumb over the tip.

Sansa was enjoying the feel of it, the movements… the pleasure she was bringing him. His hips were rising slightly to meet their joined hands until he let go to allow her to work him by herself. He stopped moving to enjoy her attention after a time.

_ "Mmm, _ good girl." He praised, eyes closed. Something about his eyes being shut bothered her. She could be anyone… any hand, _ his _ even. She didn't just want to be a hand pleasing him.

"Open your eyes." She half commanded, half asked, feeling shy.

He listened, submitting to her immediately, to her surprise. He looked into her eyes, down her body and to her hand stroking him, now far quicker.

"Faster." He choked out and it sounded desperate.

She delighted in this side of him. She moved faster, as fast as she could. He gasped, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

"_ Yes _, sweetling." He panted, his back arched slightly off the bed. He groaned loudly, to Sansa's pleasure, and he pulsed in her hand before his whole body stilled. A white substance shot from the tip, coating both his belly and chest.

He groaned one last time in relief, swallowing thickly so his Adam's apple bobbed.

Sansa was biting her lip anxiously as his gaze focused in on her. A lazy smirk surfaced across his face as he watched her. She hesitantly rubbed a finger through the seed across his abdomen. She'd never seen -let alone touched- a man's seed before. It was sticky and far thicker than she'd imagined it would be. She rubbed a glob of it between her thumb and forefinger.

He slowly recovered from his orgasm and then tucked himself away again. He sat up, swinging his legs around to rest on the floor before standing.

She started to panic a little, had she done something wrong?

He found his abandoned shirt and used it to clean himself before pulling off his breeches and coming back over to her.

He must have noticed her frozen figure and timid expression because his face broke out into an apologetic smile before he leaned across the bed to peck her lips gently.

"Thank you, Sansa." He whispered, eyes glinting mischievously as he crawled beneath the sheets.

She sighed in relief… she had done well.

She looked down at the glob of cum still on her index finger, wondering where to wipe it. He noticed what she was looking at before his long fingers wrapped around her wrist. She looked back up at him for instruction and all she got in return was his dark eyes soaking her up as his hand guided her own fingers toward her mouth. Her eyes widened as she stared at him.

He didn't push her any further, just encouraged her with his eyes. She took a shaky breath before sliding her finger into her mouth and sucking the cum off it. It was salty and a little bitter, but not bad.

"Oh sweetling, you're perfect." He praised, gesturing for her to join him under the covers.

"I should change first… this isn't the most comfortable outfit, I'm afraid." She told him, making to stand when he stopped her.

He reached behind her to untie the laces there, freeing her of the restricting outfit and pulling it off.

His eyes swept over her nakedness again before pulling her by the hand to lay down with him. She listened, cuddling closer to his body and warmth. He held her just as tightly and they fell asleep like that. Sansa, finally, felt satisfied with what they'd accomplished tonight.

A step forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling like this story is in need of another Petyr perspective? Next chapter perhaps? At least, I'M in need of writing more Petyr.
> 
> It may be interesting to hear what he really thinks of Sansa's last stunt to lure him to bed.
> 
> Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and it makes me want to write/post!!
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always. :*


	7. Inception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back... sorry!
> 
> Enjoy this chapter :))

_ Legs for days, _

Wrapped around him tightly, like a vice.

Smooth, pale skin accompanied by dark, rich auburn locks. So soft, silky.

The pads of his fingers dragged along that skin, that gloriously creamy skin.

He smiled as goosebumps rose along her arms, following the path of his fingers.

What a wicked,_ wicked _ woman she is. Tempting him at every corner. He should get a metal for resisting such influence… such an _ invitation. _

Fucking her would be glorious, so _ fucking _ glorious.

He shook his head, willing away his morning erection so she didn't have a reason to push him further.

But then the taste of her returned in his mind and he knew he was done for. The memory of her sweet nectar was fresh on his tongue.

He had promised himself that he wouldn't let it get this far. Had promised himself that he wouldn't gain feelings for her, yet here he was… stroking his fingers through her fiery locks.

_ It'll just make everything harder. _

It will make hurting her more difficult. It will make giving her up, more difficult. How was he to give this beautiful creature to another?

But he _ had _ to. It would be the next logical move for his endeavors. He had already discussed it with Roose through many, many ravens: they would get to Harrenhal, settle in, she would meet the Bolton's… and then soon after when Winterfell was standing again and Ramsay Snow was declared a Bolton… Sansa, the maiden, would marry Roose's son.

_ She would probably like that arrangement more anyways, _ Petyr told himself. _ She'd be lady of Winterfell once Roose passed and she'd be married to a man far closer to her age. She'd be home and happy. _

Petyr sighed deeply, feeling her stir in his arms.

He was still on the fence about whether to fuck her or not. On one hand, it could potentially ruin his plans if the maester examining her refused to accept his bribe. On the other… it would get her to stop questioning and teasing him… and of course, he desperately wanted to.

The smarter decision would be not to, certainly, and Petyr was no fool. He was no longer that helpless boy in love that he once was. He was smarter than that. But at the same time... a large part of him _ wanted _to just give in and deal with the consequences later.

She hummed in her sleep, drawing herself closer to him.

_ God's have mercy. _

He leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead, stirring her even further from sleep. "Petyr…" She murmured, eyes still closed. His heart swelled, admittedly, at the sight.

She was so perfect…

She hummed again as her eyes fluttered open, azure blue meeting smokey green. She smiled.

"Good morning, sweetling." He said, tightening his hold around her.

"G'morning." She replied sleepily, stretching her legs after being wrapped around him the entire night. She blushed, seemingly realizing how much she had clung to him in her sleep.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked gently, watching her as she licked her dry lips. She nodded. "A couple more days, and then we leave for Harrenhal… how does that sound?"

She beamed at him then, stirring something within him that he immediately pushed down again. "Yes!" She exclaimed, leaning down to plant a kiss against his lips. The action surprised him, but he responded immediately nonetheless.

The first few times they kissed, it was clear she was learning… but now… she seemed to have gotten the hang of it rather quickly. He hummed against her lips before pulling away.

“I have quite a lot of work to do today, regrettably.” He told her. She pouted in return, bottom lip sticking out adorably.

Oh yes, he would have to be very careful around this one.

“Can’t you stay for breakfast?” She asked, tilting her head to the side in question. He exhaled long and slow. Practically, he could stay for breakfast before getting to work… but he knew he shouldn’t. Any amount of time alone with her was temptation.

“No sweetling.” He shook his head, hating the disappointment that crossed her features. “If you want out of King’s Landing, you’ll have to let me work.” He reminded her, patting her arm gently to silently ask her to move off him. She did, and he stood.

The little minx kept her eyes on his person the entire time he dressed and readied himself. Never. Ending. Torture.

He fastened his mockingbird pin beneath his chin and practically fled from the room to escape her bewitching presence. _ Bewitching _, yes, that’s what she is unknowingly doing to him. The desire to corrupt her, to give her what she’s naively asking for, was overwhelming. Didn’t she know that her innocence was all she had left that was all her own? Family dead, home gone… It was all taken from her. Didn’t she know she can trust not a soul? Especially not his? Was she really so willing to throw away this last part of herself? Give away that part to him, of all people?

He broke the seal of the most recent scroll that lay unread upon his desk. It was from one of his newest spies in Braavos. He scanned the letter’s contents but felt his heart rate quicken with excitement as a few words stood out to him:

_ … Arya Stark… Training complete… Sailing toward King’s Landing… Plans to murder the Queen regent… _

Petyr’s brows drew together as he reread the letter. Normally his spies had nought to inform him about, especially the ones set way over in Braavos.

Petyr, like everyone else, had assumed the youngest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark had been killed trying to flee King’s Landing… Or if she _ did _ escape, it was highly unlikely she made it much further. Everyone thought she was dead.

_ Training complete? _Petyr reread that line a few times, wondering what training she could have possibly been involved in down in Braavos. It was highly plausible that she went there to continue her water dancing lessons; Ned had asked him before he died where he could find someone to teach Arya how to sword fight. Petyr suggested the water dancing master.

Besides tales of faceless men located in Braavos, that was the only training Petyr could imagine her taking part in. In which case, she probably has quite some skill with a sword by now. He would have to remember that, and perhaps leave out that small bit of information when he informs Cersei of Arya’s location and intent.

Petyr scanned through the letter once more before crumpling the paper into a ball in his fist and turning to toss it into the fireplace not far from where he sat. He watched for a moment until the paper folded in on itself as it caught fire; blackness spread over the unpigmented scroll as fast as spilt ink would stain its contents. Petyr, satisfied with the burning of the letter, turned back in his seat to begin writing back to his spy, telling him to find out exactly what Arya was doing in Braavos all this time.

The next letter he wrote was most important for his plans: A ship will be sent immediately to meet the young Stark out at sea. It was essential to his plans that Arya not make it to King’s Landing.

It would be such a tragedy if her ship was to be attacked, sunk.

He would inform Cersei before him and Sansa leave for Harrenhal of the girl’s death out at sea. The news would hurt Sansa badly, he knew, but it was just something that could not be avoided at this point. Although… Perhaps he could find a better use of the young Stark girl… Perhaps she could be a backup plan somewhere along the line. She could certainly come in handy.

Petyr continued to plot out different scenarios in his head and began writing out scroll after scroll.

One of which was sent to a young friend of his at the Vale.

* * *

She took it better than he would have thought.

Her gaze remained downcast and her eyes watered, a stray tear streaking down her cheek, staining the pale skin there. Perhaps her sister’s death did not sting as bad as the other’s because she already believed her to be dead. Or perhaps she was just getting numb to the pain of loss.

Petyr held both her hands tightly, leaving out the fact that Arya’s ship was shattered to splinters under _ his _orders.

If Petyr were kind, he would have told Sansa such news in the privacy of their chambers… though it would have been pointless then. It was her reaction he needed. Her unadulterated reaction. She had to believe it… Had to feel that pain.

Sansa looked up, through him and everyone else at the table. Her chin was held high as she wiped away her tears and swallowed thickly. “She was planning to commit treason. She’s a traitor.”

Her response had surprised even him. She was far stronger than he gave her credit for. He would have to remember that for future reference.

Sansa’s reaction, on top of a demolished ship that was previously heading toward King’s Landing, was what sold it for the wary one’s in the room: the one’s that found it odd that her ship was attacked for no real reason. But Sansa’s pain seemed to be the selling point. The cherry on top of a dangerous lie.

He could have told Sansa the truth about Arya to save her some heart ache, but then he may not have received the reaction he needed… Plus, his plans for Arya were beyond dangerous and quite far fetched as well… She could easily be killed or found out at any moment. Whether Sansa grieves her sister now or later didn’t matter, except where his plans were involved. Better now than later.

Petyr gave Sansa some space over the next few days as he prepared the last of what they needed for their travels. She seemed to appreciate the time he gave her alone, as well as the time he provided her with to say goodbye to some people; though at night when he crawled into their shared bed, she would cling to him in her sleep, seeking his comfort. He was happy to provide her with that, at least.

Petyr was just finishing off some scrolls in his office in one of his spare rooms at the Red Keep late one evening when a gentle knock sounded at his door. He placed his quill down and frowned slightly, wondering who could possibly want him at this hour. He really needed to finish these letters if he wanted to leave on time tomorrow afternoon.

He stood, straightening his tunic and running a hand over his hair to right it. He approached the door and pulled it open, surprised to see his wife on the other side of it.

"My lady? Do you need something?" He asked, eyebrows raised in expectation.

She was dressed in a pale lavender nightgown, which was light and flowy, but also hugged her curves deliciously.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I… was wondering when you would be done, my lord."

He gestured for her to step inside, closing the door gently behind her. "I'm afraid it's going to he a little while longer, my dear. I have a few more things to write."

"Can't you finish them in the morning?"

He stepped around her to his desk and sat back down again. He shook his head as he picked up his quill and began writing again. "Not if you wish to leave by the early afternoon."

His writing paused for a brief moment as she rested her hand against the wooden top of the desk he was working at. And then again when she moved to lean against it, shifting closer to him.

"Could I stay?" She said softly, slowly, and drew his attention back up to her. She had a mischievous glint in her eyes that unsettled him slightly.

"You should get some rest, sweetling. I won't be too much longer." He assured, going back to the sentence he was writing before she had interrupted.

"I can't sleep." She stated, somewhat childishly. "I'll be quiet while you work if you let me stay with you."

Petyr sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He was bloody tired. "Alright." He relented.

She immediately slunk down on his lap and he stilled, body tensing. _ Minx. _

"Sansa-"

"Shh. I said I'd be quiet. Go on and finish." She told him sternly and he breathed a laugh before his arm reached behind her to find the scroll again. He had to lean over her body to concentrate on his work and the feeling mixed with her smell was _ too much _.

For a time she didn't do anything aside from rest her head against his shoulder. However… her hands soon started venturing about on their own. One found the hair at the nape of his neck and fingers began running through it, while the other slid up and down his chest before slipping inside his tunic.

His breathing was harsher now, heartbeat picking up as she teased him. Still he managed to continue working.

Then her lips pressed against his neck and he felt a growl pulled from his chest. She hummed against his skin and left another, equally innocent (even though it felt _ far _ from innocent) kiss a little higher on his neck.

"Sansa-"

Her hand travelled lower, across his abdomen and around his belly button. He, despite trying to restrain himself, began to harden. He shifted uncomfortably to try and free himself from her, but with her body on top of his, there was really no escaping.

Her teasing fingers stopped at his breeches before running through the laces, barely skimming the hard bulge that was reluctantly forming.

Her hand left him entirely after that, moving back up to rest just under his still-clothed collarbone.

_ "When are you going to come to bed?" _ She breathed into his ear, her breath hot against his skin. He felt goosebumps rise along the back of his neck and down his arms.

"You don't know what you're asking for, Sansa." He reminded her, hoping she would just _ stop _ teasing him so relentlessly all the time.

She ignored him, slipping her hand inside his tunic and the rest of his layers to rest her hand over his bare chest, right above the hammering of his heart.

_ "Hmm," _She hummed teasingly, curling her fingers so her nails scraped through his chest hair. He hissed, licking his lips and slowly placing his quill down upon his desk. "Are you nervous, my lord? Or perhaps excited? Your heart is beating rather quickly…"

_ Bloody minx. _

He leaned back in his chair to get a good look at her. And he could tell by the satisfied look on her face, that his eyes were darkened with lust.

Sansa bit her bottom lip seductively. _ Gods, _if she doesn't stop… he might just cave. He might just take her here on his desk. He might just change all his plans for her.

Her hand moved down closer to the waistband of his breeches and then stopped there. "If I were to guess… I'd say it was the latter, seeing as how -uhm- strained you seem down there."

_ Minx. _

_ Minx. _

_ Minx. _

"That's enough, Sansa." He commanded, standing as he held her against him so she wouldn't fall. He placed her down rather roughly on the top of his desk, not even bothering to push the letters he had been so tirelessly working on out of the way. _ There wasn't time. _

Fuck her on the desk it was, then.

Sansa seemed surprised, but happy nonetheless that her advances finally worked. He pushed her legs apart and stepped between them, moving his hand down to her ankle wear her nightgown started and began trailing it upwards.

He wasted no time in hitching her dress up to her waist, making her shift on his desk so it could slid up over her _ stunning _ behind.

"Hold this." He demanded gruffly, gathering the skirts of her dress and handing them to her for her to hold at her chest.

She was biting her lip, not knowing quite what to expect from him. "My lord, might we… move to our bed in the other room?" She asked somehow shyly. Where did that seductress go from just a moment ago? "Or at least the chaise lounge?"

"No." He grunted in reply, moving a hand down to cup the painful bulge in his breeches. He groaned almost desperately as his other hand ran up the soft creamy skin of her inner thigh.

"Please, my lord?" She sounded desperate now, not wanting him to fuck her hard against the wood of a desk. _ Well, she should have thought about that before she decided to torture me. _

He could tell that the maiden in her was really beginning to feel anxious now.

"Perhaps you should have considered that before tempting me at every opportunity." He replied curtly, _ tsking _.

His fingers looped under her small clothes, hooking them before dragging them down her long legs. Such long, long legs.

"Lord Petyr…" She was biting her lip again, though now it was from nerves. "Please. I want it to be special."

"Oh I assure you…" He started with a devilish smirk as his fingers dipped into the wetness between her legs. "It will certainly be special."

She mewled as he rolled her clit between his fingers, working her up to that level of arousal that he was feeling.

He really shouldn't.

He reached for the laces of his breeches but stopped when he saw her eyes widen and her bottom lip tremble slightly before she corrected it.

He clenched his jaw tightly. _ He can't. _

Instead he dropped swiftly to his knees and gave her inner knee a polite kiss. _ He could do this. He could survive this. _

His tongue peeked out to leave a shiny trail behind as he moved closer to her apex. He heard her breath hitch when she felt his hot mouth hovering just over the wetness of her cunt. He was _ aching. _

He couldn't _ stand this any longer. _

He reached for his laces again, this time pulling them loose and slipping his hand inside at the same time that he pressed his lips against her folds, which were spread so beautifully for him. He groaned against her, making her gasp pleasantly. The flesh of his cock was scorching hot against that of his hand. Gods, she made him so fucking hard.

He pumped himself slowly as he kissed her folds, lapping up the fluids dripping willingly into his mouth. He rolled her clit around with his tongue, copying the movements of his fingers just moments ago, and she began squirming against his mouth. He smirked, knowing that she wanted more, and began pumping himself faster. His hand movements pulled a groan from deep in his chest, and it radiated through his tongue to her sensitive skin.

"Oh, my lord!" She cried, moving wantonly against his face. She was practically riding him now. He moaned again, trying to hold her still but failing with only the one hand. Though there was no way he would give up pleasuring himself just to keep her from breaking his nose with her pelvic bone… besides… that would make _ quite _the story.

The urge to stand on his feet and just thrust home was so overwhelmingly strong, but he remained on his knees. _ Not yet _, he kept repeating to himself.

Now was not the right time.

So instead, his tongue moved up from prodding at her entrance, to suck her clit between his lips. Her hand immediately discarded her balled up skirts and instead found purchase in his hair to push him closer against her cunt. If it weren't for her hands on his head, her skirts would have fallen down around him… not that he would have minded. He could stay beneath her skirts forever.

Soon he had her gasping and clawing at his scalp, which in return heightened his pleasure. He was devouring her now… eating her out with gusto while jerking himself as quickly as he was able.

Her legs flexed around him tightly, the muscles in her legs rippling as they clenched and unclenched. Soon she cried out and he felt her spasm. He continued his ministrations, but moved his mouth down to her entrance so he could catch all her nectar, his own cock throbbing and then releasing at the same time.

He groaned as he pulled back and tucked his cock away, pushing back her skirts so he could stand. He licked around his lips, using the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the rest of her from his facial hair. She flushed deeply, a small smile surfacing as she tried to right herself.

He tightened his laces again as he smirked at her. "Is that what you wanted from your husband, my lady wife?" He teased.

She slowly found her footing with shaky legs as her blush intensified. "Not quite, but… I suppose it'll do."

"Cheeky." He shot back, shaking his head. "Now run along, sweetling. I'll be there shortly… once I rewrite the letters you ruined."

She shot him a sly smile before leaning up to kiss his stubbly cheek, leaving without another glance.

_ Bloody. _

_ Minx. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo, some things are beginning to happen...
> 
> And Harrenhal will be coming soon. The next episode I would think. The plot is starting to thicken.
> 
> Y'all should enjoy this peacefulness while it lasts... Harrenhal will be a ride.


	8. Only The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky you guys... Covid-19 provided me with enough time to write another chapter of this story!
> 
> Sorry for being gone so long. Hopefully I can get a few up with the time I now have to write.

Sansa bowed low, her dress billowing out beneath her in the slight breeze. The few strands of hair that came loose from her braid whipped across her face as she bent her head down to stare at the wooden planks of the dock, water sloshing about beneath where she stood.

Her husband bowed beside her as well, saying farewell to the King and Queen and telling them how honored he was that they came to see Sansa and himself off. The Queen Regent was also present, though she stood quietly to the side and just watched the interaction.

When Sansa stood to her full height again, Queen Margaery pulled her into a tight embrace. Sansa, despite her nerves and unease, smiled against her friend's shoulder.

"I'll miss you." Margaery told her quietly so the other's wouldn't overhear. "You'll have to send me a raven when you arrive to tell me how everything is. I hear your Lord husband put many coins into rebuilding and renovating Harrenhal."

A part of Sansa was still sad that it wasn't High Garden she was off to with Loras by her side and a new loving sister to gossip with. But that fantasy was far in the past now and she knew she shouldn't dwell on what could have been.

"I'll miss you too." Sansa said in return, smiling easily. "And I'll be sure to write."

"Good!" Margaery grinned, her hands still remaining on both of Sansa's shoulders. "Oh, and it's rumored to be haunted too, did you know?"

_ Great. _ Sansa shook her head.

"Well, you'll have to tell me if the rumors are true or not." She said as she moved her hands to rest at her sides again, then slowly clasping them in front of her stomach.

"And you'll have to tell me-"

"Lady Sansa." Joffrey interrupted, making Margaery take a step back respectfully as he came closer.

Sansa dipped her head again in another bow as he smirked down at her. "Your grace. I am beyond honored that you came to say goodbye."

"I'm sure you are, my lady." He said mockingly. "I must say…" He continued, stepping closer to glower down at her intimidatingly. "I'm sad to see you leave. I had hoped that we could get to know each other a little better. I'll always treasure our time together."

"As will I, your grace." Sansa lied, trying to sound unaffected. Petyr approached her from her left and smiled apologetically towards Joffrey.

"Sorry to interrupt, your Grace, my lady." He apologized, his hand grazing her lower back. "But we should really be heading out now."

He turned solely to her this time, resting one hand over her cheek and the other on her upper arm. "I will board the ship now and prepare the last few necessities as you finish your goodbyes. I shall see you again shortly, my dear." With that he left a sweet kiss on her cheek and then, with a glance Joffrey's way, a short kiss to her lips. His eyes glinted mischievously as he pulled away and gave her one last pat on the arm before he left her there by herself.

If there's one thing Sansa loved about Petyr, it was his boldness with no care for consequences.

Sansa said a few more goodbyes to some of the few people she made friends with since her stay here: Shae, Lady Olenna, a few of the ladies she used to gossip with while she ate lunch in the gardens. Then the Queen Regent stepped forwards, her arms wrapped around herself so her light green shawl covered her bare arms and shoulders.

"Sansa, I'm disheartened to see you leave. I had grown to care greatly for you, little dove. Like one of my own." Her voice was cautious and her eyes dark, contradicting the words she was saying. "I do hope you enjoy your stay at Harrenhal with your new husband. I hope it suits you well."

Sansa knew a warning when she heard one. _ Enjoy your stay? _What was that supposed to mean? Her expression shifted easily into a pleased one. "Lord Petyr says it's ancient beauty will align perfectly with my desires. He thinks I will love it there."

"He does, does he?" She hid her scowl with a turn of her head, as if she were simply glancing at her son and new daughter. She looked back at Sansa with a dangerous smile. "I hear there's a rather beautiful lake hidden in the ancient garden at the front of the house… You'll have to investigate for me and then send a raven to tell me what you found. I'm sure it would make for a nice reading spot."

Sansa's brow creased for a second, trying to understand her motive but failing. She decided to forget about it. Whatever Cersei was trying to threaten her with, it didn't matter anymore, for she is no longer a guest in King's Landing. She smiled sweetly, tilting her head slightly to the side.

"I will have to find that spot you speak of: it sounds lovely, my Queen Regent." Sansa replied simply, earning a fake smile from the woman in front of her: one that forced a shivering down Sansa's spine.

The red head turned to leave after that, stepping onto the gangplank and boarding the ship. Luckily, Petyr's hands found her waist and he pulled her down safely onto the deck.

"There you are, sweet." He greeted with an affectionate chuff to the chin and another kiss on the lips. She knew he was being extra sweet on her because of their audience, but she soaked up every second of it anyways.

Sansa stood at the stern of the ship to wave at Queen Margaery and the others. Sansa stayed there even after the people waving by the docks became too small to recognize. She watched as the Castle and the Red Keep became blurry as they blended with the clouds and the pink hazy sunset in the horizon. Only then did her Lord husband approach her since they set sail.

"My lady," he smiled pleasantly. "I'd pay a million gold dragons to have an artist paint you just like this: with the sun setting behind you, lighting your hair to flame, your skin so fair and beautiful as your dress dances in the breeze."

Sansa smiled lazily over at her husband, her eyelids feeling heavy all of a sudden. "You flatter me beyond my worth, my lord."

He waved his hand at her and shook his head, as if waving off her nonsense comment. "You are worth far more than a million dragons, my sweet. May I join you?" He gestured to the empty spot beside her and she nodded, so he stepped up the step she was standing on and leaned against the railing as well.

Sansa breathed in the salty sea air and sighed happily. She was finally leaving this awful place where her father was taken from her as well as her happy childhood innocence. Sansa thought back on that young girl she once was, never feeling further away from her than she did in this moment.

"I like King's Landing from this angle far more than any other I've seen." Sansa commented, watching the horizon slowly fade entirely. Leaving that awfully tainted land felt like being reborn. She was someone else now: someone new.

She felt Petyr watched her, but she took her time watching the sunset before looking over at him. The corner of his mouth was tilted upwards as he admired her.

"I have to agree with your assessment, sweetling." He paused, looking back as both of his hands gripped the wooden railing, the rings on his fingers taking turns as they thudded against the wood. "When I first came here, I thought it was the greatest sight I would ever lay my eyes on. A beautiful city full of secrets and opportunity."

Sansa listened intently, curious to hear him speak about his past. "It didn't take long to uncover the ugly truths and cracks hidden along the stone in the walls of the castle."

He didn't elaborate anymore and Sansa didn't ask, so instead they sat there quietly and watched the end of the sunset until the sky began to darken.

"Why didn't we travel by horseback, my lord?" She asked, tilting her head to the side in question as she turned to him. He leaned back to look at her properly. He brought his hand up to scratch the side of his chin, his stubble creating a scraping noise against his fingernails. "It's faster, isn't it?" She added.

"It is, yes." He agreed. "But as you know, we're moving permanently. It's easier to transport so many belongings by ship than by horse. Plus," he padded the wooden railing fondly. "I didn't trust my ship back there."

Sansa smiled in remembrance as she thought back to the day he told her about their engagement. She had been looking out at his ship in the harbor when he found her in the gardens, proceeding to tell her how proud he was of this ship.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I didn't catch the name of the ship when I boarded." She apologized, curious as to what he had named it.

"Terrible passenger etiquette." He teased, clicking his tongue. She let a laugh slip, one that seemed to please him greatly: judging by the way his eyes lit up and his own smile widened.

"Her name is The Mockingbird."

Sansa felt as if she should have known that, seeing as the largest mast had a black mockingbird symbol painted on it… and it was also his house sigil. "What do you think, my lady?"

"It's fitting." She said.

She then placed her hand on his chest, right above his silver pin, and fingered it delicately. "You're impressive." She complimented out of the blue.

He quirked an eyebrow in pleasant surprise as he searched her eyes in an intense kind of way. It always felt overwhelming to know she had all of his attention; his attention was overwhelming because of its intensity.

"A boy from nothing. No where." She stated and he nodded, as if confirming what she was saying to be true. "Your ingenuity, determination and ambition alone got you to where you are now. It's very impressive to me."

"Thank you, Sansa." He said genuinely, placing his hand over hers that still rested on his chest.

They shared a sweet moment where Sansa lost herself almost entirely to the dark welcoming depths of his eyes. They were enthralling to behold. She felt (again) _ overwhelmingly _special to be the one gazing into them: as if by doing so he was letting her in on a deep secret and trusting her with it's burden. His eyes could swallow her whole if he so wished them to; a power only a loved one could wield.

"What do you say we get below deck and out of this cold? Dinner should be ready by now." He took her hand and led her past the ship's crew and the crates on deck to the steep stairs that seemed more like a ladder than anything else. He climbed down first, so he could help her as she began to lower herself, his hands firmly holding her waist.

"That's it, love. You can drop now." And she did, trusting him to catch her. He did more than that, holding her body against his warm one and lowering her down slowly until her feet touched the deck again.

"Thank you." She said a little breathlessly and he nodded curtly before swiftly taking her hand again and leading her to the furthest room at the end of the passageway. He let go of her hand in favour of fishing the key from his pocket and placing it in the lock.

He closed the door behind them once they were inside and Sansa took in the room with her eyes. It was large for a ship cabin, which meant it was incredibly small, but more than what she was expecting. Though it was finely designed like everything else her husband owned. _ Only the best. _

There was a double sized feather bed in the middle of the room with a porthole on either side of the wooden bedframe, the sheets a light grey. The colour accents in the cabin were both red and yellow: a few beams here and there were painted and the frame around one of the maps that hung on the wall opposite where they stood was stained red while the other was stained yellow. It had an almost classic feel to it.

Sansa turned to take in the other half of the room, a dark wooden desk empty of contents sat next to their trunks that held their clothing for the evening and the following day. There was a tall wardrobe facing the bed, beside the door, but Sansa figured they wouldn't be using it for only one night.

There was a small table with two chairs set up in the center of the room, a meal already prepared and served sitting upon it. Lamb and mashed potatoes with steamed vegetables and a dark wine waiting to be poured.

"Thoughts?" He asked as he rested his hands on her shoulders from behind, dragging them down her arms to remove her shawl and then folding it up neatly and placing it on the desk.

"It's fark nicer than I expected for a ship." She said before blushing a little in embarrassment. "I apologize, my lord, I've never been on a ship before, so I didn't expect such-"

"Hush, sweetling. I knew what you meant. Thank you. She means a lot to me." _ The ship, _ he meant.

He pulled out her chair for her and remained standing as he poured their wine. "To a new beginning." He declared once he sat down and held up his own cup.

She smiled at his toast and repeated '_ to a new beginning', _ before bringing the red liquid to her lips and drinking deeply. It instantly calmed her nerves and warmed her body as it mixed into her bloodstream. The food was delicious, divine as she would have expected, and she was left full and sated by the end of the meal.

Someone from his crew members came in to clean up their dishes as her and Petyr looked out the small porthole to see the moon reflecting off of the waves and ripples in the water. It was even more beautiful than the sunset.

Sansa decided that she liked traveling by sea.

Petyr eyed her hotly as she changed into her nightgown, getting distracted from his own task of changing. She was sure to shimmy on the thin fabric slowly, giving him more time to eye her naked body with a lecherous gaze.

Eventually she finished, flashing him a cheeky smile as she tiptoed quickly to the bed, trying to save her feet from the cold planks of wood, and hopped gracefully onto the mattress. She always felt so beautiful under his eye.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head but not making a comment as he changed himself. Unfortunately he didn't give her the same show that she gave him, leaving his underclothes on to sleep in.

He blew out the surrounding candles in the room, save for the one beside their bed, before climbing in and under the sheets.

"Are you cold?" She asked, wondering how he could have possibly walked barefoot around the room to find and distinguish each candle.

"A little." He admitted, shifting closer to her with a smirk. "Are you going to warm me up, lady Baelish?"

Oh, how she loved when he was in a playful mood.

She grinned, moving under the covers to press her body against his, her arms winding their way around his torso. His arms found her too, pressing her into him more firmly.

"Are you going to put out the last candle?" She asked, voice muffled from his shoulder as she pressed her face into him more.

"Not just yet. I like looking at you." He confessed shamelessly, pulling a smile from her lips.

She ran her fingers through his short, coarse chest hair. Her cheek pressed against the warm skin of his shoulder as her nails scratched soothingly over his chest. Her hand rested over his heart and she smiled again at the feel of his rapid heartbeat; there were some things he couldn't hide.

* * *

"Sweetling?"

Her eyes fluttered open, closing again a second later when the light streaming in through the windows felt blinding against her dilated pupils.

"Goodmorning." He said with a kiss to her forehead, his hand still threaded through her hair as it had been while trying to wake her.

She mumbled incoherently in reply, making him chuckle lightly. "I've brought you lemon danishes, for if you ever decide to get up." He teasingly offered.

Her eyes shot open immediately and he smirked as he held the plate up tantalizingly in front of her. They looked _ delicious. _ Sansa smiled as she sat herself up, fixing her nightgown and messy hair in the process.

Petyr sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, already fully ready for the day. They shared the small plate of danishes in comfortable silence, except for when a bit of icing caught Sansa upper lip and Petyr teased her before swiping his thumb over it and sucking it into his own mouth.

Petyr had woken her in time to watch Harrenhal slowly come into view. And Sansa flashed Petyr an excited smile at the sight; it was beautiful. The castle was slightly smaller than that of Winterfell, but it was taller. Green grass spanned as far as she could see each way, forests surrounding in every direction except for that of the sea. It certainly didn't look like the haunted, abandoned castle that it once was.

"It's all _ ours _, Sansa." Petyr told her, his mouth pressed against her ear as his arms found purchase around her waist.

* * *

The castle itself had an old ancient charm to it, the architecture held beauty within the relief carvings along every arch and the many spires that detailed every flat surface. It created a sort of gothic feel.

When the Baelish's arrived at the courtyard -a beautiful stretch of stone that homed a small sculpture of a tree with a mockingbird perched atop the highest branch- they were greeted by a large handful of people. Everyone seemed quite excited to meet the new Lady Baelish, and Sansa immediately felt like she belonged here. Wasn't this her dream since she was a child? To marry a handsome man and be the lady of a gorgeous house with people who loved her to rule over.

She greeted the workers that tended to the land and the castle itself. Gardeners, maids, cooks, the maester. They were all lovely people that seemed overjoyed to be serving her and Sansa took her time with each one. She wanted to be loved and known for her kindness and compassion. She wanted every person that she took rule over to feel important to her, because they truly were in her eyes.

This was her family now. Every person here. And she wanted to make the most of it.

Petyr was beside her, a hand on her lower back and an easy smile on his face when two men and a pudgy woman approached her.

"Lord Baelish, glad to see your travels were safe." The older man with a receding hairline greeted first, offering a small bow of his head.

"Thankyou Lord Bolton." Petyr bowed back, his hand rubbing calming circling against her back.

"You haven't yet met my wife, I believe." He gestured for the woman to step closer and she did. Sansa thought the woman seemed sweet, but a little defeated -unhappy. "She was a Frey, once upon a time."

"Lovely to meet you, Lady Bolton." Petyr greeted politely, bowing lower for her than he had for her husband. _Odd,_ Sansa thought.

"The pleasures all mine, Lord Baelish." She managed a small smile as she too, gave a curtsey.

The younger man, his dark hair shaggy and curling over his dark brown eyes, grinned over at her. It was a grin that she couldn't find it in herself to return, for it didn't seem friendly or welcoming in the least.

"You must be the lovely Sansa Stark we hear so much about." The older man said as he looked down at her, bowing. She returned the gesture with a small curtsey before straightening her spine again and daringly staring into the man's eyes.

"It's Sansa Baelish, actually." Was her only response to his compliment. Sansa skin alive being near these men... her gut telling her something bad.

The man shared a look with the younger one beside him, the kind of look that made every red flag in Sansa body shoot up.

"Well, lady Baelish," He continued, looking back at her again. "I am Roose Bolton and this is my son, Ramsay Snow."

Roose clapped his son on the shoulder and Sansa's eyes followed the action, looking Ramsay in the eye's for a long moment. He was around her age, handsome in his own youthful way, though his eyes held even less warmth than her lord husband's did on a bad day.

"It's a pleasure, lady _ Baelish _."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, guys. It was sweet but also SHIT'S STARTING TO HAPPEN!
> 
> We finally made it to Harrenhal, so you guys will get a better look at that in the following chapters as well as the guests that Sansa can't seem to shake a bad feeling about.
> 
> Pete continues to plot, as always. So look out for that, (Sansa).
> 
> Lots of hints and foreshadowing in this one, guys.
> 
> Hold on because stuff will be happening SOON.
> 
> "Lady Baelish, actually." Damn, Sans you fire.
> 
> Alright alright, I'll see you all next chapter which will hopefully be soon.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, I love talking to every one of you.


	9. The Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you all because this story is starting to take off and I'm excited.
> 
> This is the first chapter that starts to rattle the story. Enjoy!

Sansa was relaxing under a large willow tree which dangled partly over a rushing river, as she read. She found this little sanctuary the second day of their arrival and has spent every moment of free time in this exact spot since.

It was a beautiful day with little to no wind and Sansa had kicked off her shoes to enjoy the soft blades of grass between her toes. She wore one of the gowns that Petyr had fashioned for her back in King's Landing. It was long, a soft orange modal material flowing down to her ankles. The sleeves were short, ruffling out in layers at her shoulders and the neckline was a V-shape that exposed a small amount of cleavage. Bright, elegant flowers were stitched into the orange fabric around her waist and chest.

She let go of the book with one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, moving her hand back to flip to the next page. Petyr's library was like none other she has ever seen before. Hundreds of books lined each beautifully hand crafted shelf with a pride that Sansa adored. She had asked him how many he had read and he had answered her with a smug grin, _ "there isn't a book's spine in this room that wasn't broken by me at one time or another." _ It was no wonder he was so clever and intelligent.

Today Sansa had chosen a light brown leather back of poetry. Her hand gilded down the page she was reading, smiling softly at the words that streamed together like the very water rushing at her feet.

A sanctuary, indeed.

"What is it today?"

Sansa jumped slightly at the interruption, smiling up at her husband as he approached with his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing a dark brown tunic with golden designs all along it, a wine-coloured draping material hung from his shoulder and pinned in place with his mockingbird clip.

Sansa looked down at the book half-read in her hands. "The Full Collection of Percy Bysshe Shelley." She read aloud as he sat down beside her. This action surprised her, that he was willing to soil his clothing just to spend time with her.

"Ah, excellent choice." He praised her decision. "Would you read me something?"

Sansa's eyes widened. He wants to hear _ her _ read him poetry? She swallowed thickly and looked back down at the page she had been reading before he announced his presence.

"Of course, my lord. Though I fear I won't do it justice." She told him, watching as his mouth flickered into a gentle smile. He didn't respond, just waited patiently for her to begin.

She cleared her throat quietly and read:

_ "Music, when soft voices die, _

_ Vibrates in the memory— _

_ Odours, when sweet violets sicken, _

_ Live within the sense they quicken. _

_ Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, _

_ Are heaped for the belovèd's bed; _

_ And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, _

_ Love itself shall slumber on." _

Petyr applauded her with a smile. "Music, When Soft Voices Die. Am I correct?" He asked and she looked down to read the title of the poem.

"You know your poetry well, my lord." She answered, pleased to see another soft side of his.

"Only the good ones, my lady." He nodded.

"Will you read me your favourite from this collection, Lord Baelish?" She asked, handing over the soft leatherback book. He accepted it, running his thin fingers adorned with all his flashy rings, down the page as she had done earlier.

"It's _ Petyr, _ my dear." He corrected as he began flipping through the pages in search of a specific section of text. He brought his thumb to his mouth and touched his tongue to the tip of his finger, using the now moist skin to leaf through the book. The action made Sansa think some very unladylike thoughts, remembering the other places he has put both his finger's _ and _ his tongue.

"Ah, here it is." He announced as he brought it slightly closer to his face to read. "Love's Philosophy."

_ "The fountains mingle with the river _

_ And the rivers with the ocean, _

_ The winds of heaven mix for ever _

_ With a sweet emotion; _

_ Nothing in the world is single; _

_ All things by a law divine _

_ In one spirit meet and mingle. _

_ Why not I with thine?— _

_ See the mountains kiss high heaven _

_ And the waves clasp one another; _

_ No sister-flower would be forgiven _

_ If it disdained its brother; _

_ And the sunlight clasps the earth _

_ And the moonbeams kiss the sea: _

_ What is all this sweet work worth _

_ If thou kiss not me?" _

Sansa felt herself smiling when he looked back up at her. She had such a need to suddenly touch him, so instead of refraining like she has been the last few days, she reached up to trace his lips with the tip of her index finger.

He seemed surprised by her actions, but didn't move out of her reach or question her at all. He simply looked back at her, gazing deeply into her cerulean blue pools. Her fingers moved along his jawline and then down his neck, resting just above his collarbone.

"You've been busy." She voiced, withdrawing her hand.

"You've missed me?" He questioned, lips twitching up into a playful smirk. As he watched her. _ Had he even blinked? _

She looked down, fighting the heat rising inside her. "Everyone here -mostly everyone here-" She corrected before continuing. "Are all so nice, but-"

"You're lonely." He observed, tilting his head to the side. "I'm sorry I've been so distracted lately, sweetling. Is there something you'd like to do this evening? Perhaps I could make some time."

Sansa thought about it for a moment, thinking of all the nice things they could do together. The idea suddenly came to her. "I'd love to go for a walk around the gardens."

"Splendid idea, my sweet. We shall go at dusk. Have you seen how the lightning bugs twinkle in the dark? They're beautiful in the gardens." He told her as he leaned back to pick a miniature wild daisy from the earth.

"That sounds wonderful, Petyr." She said truthfully. He hummed in agreement as he stared down at the flower between his fingers, twisting it around to see every petal.

"You look beautiful in that dress, Sansa." He told her sincerely as he offered the tiny flower to her. "For you." He said as he leaned closer, her fingers brushing his as she accepted his gift.

She smiled down at the flower, but her attention was brought back up to him when he placed a gentle finger beneath her chin. He glanced down at her lips, making his intention clear, and Sansa felt her cheeks reddened under his gaze. He smiled pleasantly when she blushed, clearly amused. But then his lips met hers and all smiles fell away.

His lips warmed her internally as they pressed firmly against hers. She felt her heart rate pick up as his hand glided down her jaw to cup her cheek and hold her close. The mint in his breath tasted sweeter than ever. When he pulled away, his lips detached from her's with a soft smacking sound. He smiled charmingly before tucking her hair back behind her ear and handing her the poetry book back.

"If you'll excuse me, sweetling…" He stood, straightening his tunic and brushing the dirt from it. "I shall see you later."

She nodded, smiling as she tried to slow her beating heart. He bowed his head before he left, walking back to the castle.

Sansa smiled widely, shaking her head at herself. Why did she feel so giddy around him? So unbelievably, sickly, _ happy? _

She looked down at the flower in her hand and brought it to her lips, placing a kiss upon its petals; a kiss that shared both her's and Petyr's DNA. She placed the flower delicately on the page Petyr had previously read from: _ Love's Philosophy. _ She closed the book, preserving the flower between it's pages and stood, taking a deep breath of the clear, utterly _ clean _ air and making her way back to the castle.

* * *

Sansa stayed quiet during every meal shared with the Bolton's. She hated their presence. Roose had killed her family, her _ brother _ and her lady mother, but she forced herself to keep quiet for Petyr's sake. But that didn't stop the hate from boiling and rising to the surface everytime he or his bastard son spoke a word.

And the son. That was another problem entirely. He was always _ looking. _ Always watching. It wasn't the same way Petyr watched her. Petyr had a darkness to his eyes, yes, but it wasn't one she feared. Ramsay Snow looked at her like she was a meal. His gaze made her squirm uncomfortably, like she was now.

Petyr's hand found a home on her thigh as he flashed her a concerned look. "Are you alright, my dear?"

_ No. Ramsay keeps looking at me like he wants to fuck me, or kill me… or both. _

"Yes, my lord." She replied, her throat tight as she caught Ramsay's dark eyes once again, soaking her up with a devious smirk.

The dark haired man pushed his index finger into his mouth, his lips closing tightly around it as he sucked the juices off from the drumstick he had just devoured. He stared at her as he did it, bringing another finger to his mouth and repeating the action. Sansa tried not to let her face twist in disgust. He truly was _ foul. _

What bothered her most was the fact that Petyr always realized how uncomfortable Ramsay made her and how awful he glared at her, but he never did anything about it. Never told Ramsay off or stood up for her… never defended her honour. He just _ let _ Ramsay look. Let him run his vile fingers down her arm to take her hand and kiss the back of it with wet lips.

"You look very ravishing this evening, lady Sansa."

Comments like that bothered Sansa to no end. How _ dare _ he say she looks _ ravishing. _ Beautiful or lovely would be a polite compliment but a word like that suggested a sexual desire, which was unacceptable.

Sansa glanced over at Petyr, who clenched his jaw as he reached for his cup to take a generous mouthful of wine. Frustrated, Sansa placed down her knife and fork and stared Ramsay down without a sign of weakness.

"I appreciate the compliment, Ramsay, but if you don't mind, I'd rather you use a more appropriate word next time. Lady's don't often like being told they look _ ravishing _by someone who isn't their husband." Everyone looked surprised, but didn't scold her for speaking out in such a way. In fact, Petyr had to take another slug of his wine to hide the amused smirk that formed. At least he was proud of her.

Ramsay cleared his throat, looking embarrassed for being told off by a woman. "Well then, my lady, it's a good thing I'm going to-"

"Ramsay Snow!" Roose interrupted, glaring down at his son. "That's enough."

With that, Ramsay huffed, clenching his fist tightly as if he were trying desperately hard to refrain from outbursting or acting rashly.

Sansa frowned, _ it's a good thing I'm going to…? _ Going to _ what? _ She looked over to Petyr who refused to meet her eyes, staring down at his plate as he finished his meal. This made Sansa feel even more uneasy.

The next time anyone at the table spoke, dessert was being served. "You only have one family member left, do you not, my lady?" Ramsay asked, glaring at his father to stand down when Roose started scolding him again.

Sansa glared daggers at the man across from her, feeling the sudden urge to spit at him… this piece of filth. "And he is… well, a _ bastard. _"

_ "You're _a bastard." Sansa pointed out shamelessly. She met Ramsay's glare evenly.

There was a long moment of silence before Ramsay dropped her gaze. Sansa counted it as a win until his vile smirk returned and he shouted out a command.

The far door opened and out hobbled what looked like a dirty commoner. Sansa's eyes narrowed, trying to see past the dirty hair that fell over the man's face. "Lady Sansa, meet my _ friend _. I believe you two know each other, do you not?"

Sansa still didn't understand where he was going with this until the man straightened his back and moved his eyes over to hers. He was hurt and filthy, covered in all sorts of grime, and he looked nothing like the man he once was… but it _ was _ Theon. Theon Greyjoy, her father's ward. Practically her _ brother. _

Sansa didn't realize she had dropped her spoon until she looked down and realized it was no longer in her hand and instead, stuck into the slice of uneaten cake on her plate.

"Theon?" She breathed, slowly standing.

"What's the meaning of this, Bolton?" Petyr demanded, looking to Roose for answers.

"Oh no, Sansa." Ramsay started, looking beyond pleased. "He doesn't answer to that name anymore. This is Reek."

Sansa couldn't tear her gaze away from him. He was _ right there! _ And he was _ family. _

"Reek." Ramsay said calmly. "Kneel." And Theon knelt, dipping his head low. "Crawl to me." He demanded, and Theon obeyed.

"Kiss my boots."

To Sansa's horror, he actually _ did. _ He kissed each one without hesitation. Like a trained _ dog. _ Just as Theon began pulling away, Ramsay kicked hard, hitting him right in the face. Theon cowered back, clutching his now bleeding nose.

Now Petyr stood as well, looking angry. "That is _ quite _ enough! Roose, if you don't teach your son some manners, then _ I _will!" Petyr whirled around the table to clutch the front of Theon's stained shirt and he pulled him to his feet. "Go clean yourself up, for heaven's sake, that carpet cost me a fortune." Petyr shoved him towards the door, but Theon refused to leave, blood still dripping freely onto the carpet. Instead he looked wide-eyed at Ramsay, who was leaning back in his chair with a bored expression.

"Do as he says, Reek." Was all it took for Theon to scramble away.

Petyr spun around, pointing his finger toward Ramsay threateningly. "You are on _ my _ land, in _ my _ home at _ my _dinner table. You will treat me and my wife with more respect from now on or you'll find yourself out of here in seconds and the deal will be off."

"Oh, she's _ your _ wife, is she?" Ramsay shot back with a smug expression.

Then it hit her.

And the world felt like it came crashing down at the realization.

Suddenly, Ramsay Snow wasn't the person she hated the most in this room right now. Suddenly… Suddenly her angry gaze set on her husband.

"Okay, enough! Enough!" Roose yelled as he, too, stood. "Lord Petyr, Lady Sansa, we apologize. Ramsay will eat in his room from now on." Roose grabbed his son by the collar and yanked him to his feet.

Ramsay acted as if he couldn't care less about the scolding he was currently receiving. He sent Sansa a wink and a smirk. "I do look forward to spending more time with you, Sansa _ Stark." _

And then he fled from the room with his father in tow. Lady Bolton was the only one left besides Petyr and herself, but she seemed far too embarrassed and shocked to stand or even make eye contact.

Petyr took a step closer to her with an offered hand but she breezed past him storming out of the room in a fury. She knew _ exactly _why the Bolton's were here and it wasn't because they needed a place to stay while Winterfell was rebuilt.

That.

Bloody.

Prick.

It all made sense now.

Sansa paced their bedroom, her arms crossed over her chest as her mind ran a million miles a minute. She was only working herself up more.

Then the door pushed open and a very cautious looking Petyr stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind himself. Her eyes were wild as she approached him, immediately swiping her open hand across his face, resulting in a loud smack. His head whipped to the side in surprise and he blinked rapidly a few times while his hand came up to rub at his reddening cheek.

"You _ monster!" _ Petyr's jaw clenched as she pointed her finger at him, feeling such hate for this man. Such _ pain. _

"So you figured it out, then?" He asked dully, making her want to slap him again.

"How _ could you!?" _ She yelled, feeling the urge to cry, rising.

"I need an army, Sansa. You happen to be valuable enough to trade for such a price." He replied, making her rage boil hotter.

_ "That's _why you wouldn't consummate the marriage. You've been planning this from the beginning!" She accused, hoping she was wrong. But by the reluctant look in his eyes, she knew she most certainly was not wrong.

"Of course I have, Sansa."

"It was never for me." She voiced her realizations aloud. "It wasn't because you wanted me to be _ready_ or _comfortable._ You don't care about that."

He didn't answer... Just stared blankly at her.

A million insults, questions and accusations scattered her mind but the only one she seemed to voice was a single syllable long. One question:

_ "Why?" _

He shifted uncomfortably and did not answer.

"Why would you spend any time with me at all? Be sweet and kind to me? Talk to me for hours like you did… if this was your plan all along... Why?" His Adam's apple bobbed under the pressure of all her questions.

Sansa felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, but she did not wipe them away. Let him see them. Let him feel his guilt.

"He's _ awful, _ Petyr! Vile! You saw what he did to Theon!" She shouted, feeling hysterical with anger at this point. "And you intend to give me to him!"

His eyes suddenly dropped to the floor in -seemingly- shame. It was the first crack she'd seen in him since he walked through that door. "I didn't know he was that… cruel. I figured the two of you would be a good match. He's far closer to your age than I am, and marrying him will bring you home, where you belong." He explained, holding his hands up in surrender.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "I will be _ miserable _with him, Petyr! He'll hurt me! Rape me!" Now she was really crying, imagining all the awful things he would do to her. Beat her, fuck her, torture her.

"He would be a fool to hurt the last remaining Stark. You would be the only thing staking his claim on Winterfell. He's not even a Bolton yet, Sansa, his position is too fragile." Petyr objected, thinking logically unlike her raging mind.

"You don't know that! You _betrayed _me!" She exclaimed, placing her hands on his chest and shoving him hard. He hardly moved but it was still satisfying to Sansa.

"Sansa, listen!" He pleaded, holding her wrists in his hands as she attempted another hit to his face once again. "Listen!"

She settled down finally, getting caught by those piercing eyes again like she always does. They made her freeze, made her heart ache, made her feel the extent of this betrayal so deeply.

He sighed, long and heavy through his parted lips. "I don't plan on leaving you with him for long. Just long enough to get my new army and an aligning force together to liberate Winterfell from the Bolton's." He was talking quietly now, aware of the guests that slept not far from their own chambers.

Sansa frowned in confusion. "What?"

"A moon… maybe two, and then Winterfell will be yours entirely. I had hoped… at that point you would want an alliance. You would _ need _one. I had hoped…"

"To marry me again." She finished for him and he nodded.

"For _ real _, this time." He told her, his hands dropping her wrists and finding a home on both her shoulders instead. The heat of his palms was distracting. "You would be home. Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North. And maybe, eventually… Queen of the North. I would rule at your side as your partner: your equal."

"Queen of the North?" Sansa questioned, wondering how that fit in. Petyr smiled.

"I'm working hard to get a new ruler in King's Landing. A dragon Queen. There will be a battle soon, and when she wins, she will be desperate for her people to love her. Desperate for alliances. That is when we will ask her to make the North an individual Kingdom. She will agree because she does not want to fight another war so soon. She will agree to earn our favor... our _ friendship _and trust." Petyr told her, sliding his hands down her arms to take her hands in his.

"It will just be a short time that you will have to endure that bastard. Then you will be free, and home. Safe." Petyr finished, making her remember why she was so angry. She ripped her hands from his and turned her back to him.

"Sansa..." Petyr breathed, but it sounded like a warning.

"Why am _ I _the one that has to suffer at the hands of another for this picture to become a reality!?" She asked, spinning back around to catch his expression.

"Well I don't think Ramsay would be very interested in me, sweetling." He teased, making her even more angry.

_ "Ugh!" _ She groaned, throwing the nearest object -which happened to be a book- at him. It hit his chest with a thud before sliding down and then dropping to the floor. "Why do you have to lie and manipulate and cause so much _ pain!?" _

He sighed again, trying to step closer but stopping when she sent him a sharp glare. "I'm sorry."

"No you aren't!" She rightly accused him, moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed to catch her breath and sort out her thoughts.

She could handle a moon or two of Ramsay, couldn't she? It was a short period of time. But that's if Petyr was telling the truth about saving her, and how was she to trust him now? On the other hand… she would have to sleep with him. Give him her maidenhead. Would he force himself on her? Hurt her? Would she feel like she was having sex, or being raped? She knew in her gut what the answer was. She knew he wouldn't be sweet or gentle. He wouldn't care for her feelings or discomfort. He would just take.

Sansa shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she finally started cleaning the tears from her face and eyes. The mattress dipped beside her as Petyr sat down, putting a respectful distance between them.

"I'll have to have sex with him." She voiced her concerns aloud.

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

She sucked in a sharp breath.

He might surprise her. People do that sometimes. Maybe once he was legitimized by the King as a true Bolton instead of a bastard… maybe he would be different. Maybe he wasn't rough in the bed. And it was such a short period of time, which will leave Sansa with everything she could ever ask for. It was tempting.

She wanted to ask Petyr if he would care. If the thought of another man touching her, bothered him, but she already knew the answer to that. If he cared, he wouldn't be doing this... wouldn't be putting her in such a position.

"I hate you." She breathed and he stayed quiet for a long time. Mainly, she was just _hurt._

"I know." He answered simply. "But, Sansa… think about it… you have a chance here to _ do something! _ When terrible things happened to your family, you wept and mourned their fates. This is your opportunity to get real justice." He paused to deliver the ultimate blow.

"You loved your family. Avenge them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we met Reek.
> 
> And Sansa figured out Petyr's plan.
> 
> Will she agree?
> 
> I loved that sweet moment with Petyr and Sansa at the beginning... too bad we won't be getting that for a while because of how upset and angry Sansa is.
> 
> Were all those sweet moments between them fake for Petyr? Does he care like Sansa does?


	10. The Final Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER chapter!
> 
> ;;))
> 
> It's because I love you guys.
> 
> This was my all day project so, enjoy!

Sansa tried to ignore the ache in her chest everytime Petyr’s eyes met hers.

He betrayed her. He doesn’t care, _ not in the same way that she does at least. _No one that held an ounce of love or affection for someone, would never scheme to hand that person over to someone so horrible.

Sansa walked through the gardens by herself the following afternoon, spending the entire first half of the day trying to avoid Petyr and convince herself that Ramsay wasn’t _ so _ awful. She had unwillingly agreed to marry the bastard. It was a risk and a sacrifice, she knew, but if what Petyr told her was truthful -which was also a risk- then it was worth it. She would be home again… with Theon. She would look after him, nurse him back to health; back to the Theon Greyjoy that she knew as a girl. And if Jon ever came home, at least he’d have a place to come back to. And who knew where Bran and Rickon were in the world… Possibly alive.

Sansa came across a white-painted metal rung bench, which bars twisted into all sorts of pretty patterns. It was surrounded in all sorts of almost wild-looking flowers, but Sansa knew that each one was planted and nurtured to look exactly as it did now. Petyr would only have the best of the best.

She sat down, adjusting her pale gray dress to flow off of her knees and down to her ankles. It wasn’t the most comfortable of seats, but it was certainly beautiful, and Sansa sacrificed the comfort of her behind in favor of beauty for the time being. Her eyes closed, enjoying the peace and privacy that the garden’s provided. She breathed in deeply, her lungs overjoyed by the intake of such fresh air, even if it was perfumed by the hundreds of flowers surrounding her. Something about the oxygen away from King’s Landing seemed so much cleaner.

Sansa looked down at the flowers growing like weeds near her feet. The sight of a small yellow center surrounded by white delicate petals, struck a chord in her heart. For the fifth time that day, she felt like crying. She reached out, leaving the stem in place within the soil, and instead running the tip of her index finger along one petal, matching it’s softness to that of Petyr’s lips when she had done the same to him just yesterday morning. Back when all was right and happy in her world.

“Lady Sansa.” A voice interrupted her peace, and she straightened her back and turned towards the intruder.

“Lord Bolton.” She replied. He had been more smug than ever all day after Roose had heard back from King Joffrey. He was no longer a bastard, by law at least. Petyr had spent the rest of the evening yesterday convincing Roose to send the King a raven and make his son a true Bolton once and for all. _ Sansa Stark can’t be marrying a bastard, now can she? _ He had said.

Ramsay grinned, seemingly enjoying his new title. “May I join you, my lady?” He asked, gesturing to the spot beside her on the bench. She bowed her head in consent, and waited for him to take a seat beside her. He still wore simple clothes: dark brown trousers and a black shirt tucked in. He didn’t dress, nor act, like a lord in any manner. “Beautiful day.” He commented, trying to make small talk.

Sansa looked upwards, taking in the blue-grey sky where the sun was clouded over. “You should have seen it yesterday, my lord.” There was a tense, quiet moment, where Sansa wondered if she perhaps judged him too harshly. He seemed to be trying, at least.

“Well, you look good today, my lady. That is for certain.” He complimented.

_ Good was better than ravishing, _ she thought as she remembered the words that Petyr would use to describe her beauty:

_ "I'd pay a million gold dragons to have an artist paint you just like this: with the sun setting behind you, lighting your hair to flame, your skin so fair and beautiful as your dress dances in the breeze." _

She had to become used to the idea that poetry and warm moments of passion weren’t likely in her future anymore. Even if Petyr and her ended up married at some point again… It wouldn’t change the way he could so easily toss her to the wolves now. It wouldn’t change the lack of emotions that he harboured for her, unlike the emotions she harboured for him. It felt like a weight pressed between her ribcage and heart, never to lift and never to give her relief; it was just stuck there, always pressing.

“Thank you, my lord.” She finally replied, reaching up to push her hair over her shoulder. Immediately she regretted the action, for it caught the greedy eyes of the man beside her. She looked to the left to avoid seeing that darkness in his eyes for a second longer. It truly scared her, that darkness, especially now that she knew she would have to lay with him at least once on their wedding night, which could be mere days away. Sansa didn’t know when Petyr was planning on all of this taking place, for last night she slept on the chaise lounge in his solar so she wouldn’t have to see or talk to him for the remainder of the evening.

She was dreading it, of course, but at the same time, she almost wished it would come sooner than later so it would be over with and she wouldn’t have to keep stressing over it. She dealt with years of Joffrey and if she could do that, she could do this.

What saddened her the most about all of this was that, for a long time, Petyr was her only friend: the only one she felt she could trust. She was so alone before they married, but then she started to feel like she had someone; someone that was all her own. But Petyr belonged to no one and Sansa had to learn that the hard way. Now, she never felt more alone.

“I’m looking forward to our union.” He voiced, pulling her from her painful thoughts. She didn’t answer, trying to avoid being rude and disagreeing with him. “You shall make the most beautiful bride.”

“I hope so.” Sansa said quietly, talking just to talk, so she wasn’t being completely ignorant.

Ramsay began talking about the ceremony, how he wanted to marry in the God’s Wood at Winterfell, but Sansa stopped listening. She stood and began walking, expecting him to follow, but hoping that he wouldn’t. At some point as they walked, Ramsay offered her his arm and she accepted it, wishing it was attached to a man with ash at his temples and grey-green eyes, instead of Ramsay’s chestnut irises. Ramsay’s hands were thicker than Petyr’s, too, his fingers shorter and his nails chewed down to their cubicles. Petyr’s were elegant and clean, his nails longer like his fingers were.

Sansa had decided that after all this, after she weds Ramsay and after Petyr liberates Winterfell from their grips, she will _ not _ remarry. Not ever and certainly not Petyr Baelish.

Sansa rounded the stone fountain, a large round bowl that held a few feet of clear water with lily pads floating on its surface, accompanied by a beautiful pink lotus flower. When she circled it, a light from the closest tower of the castle, flickered and caught her attention. She looked up, realizing it was Petyr’s solar as his dark figure stood watching them. She couldn’t see his face from this distance, just his stance: his posture. By the looks of it, his arms were crossed as he leaned against the window frame.

Ramsay was oblivious to her shift in attention as he rambled on about what their feast will look like and the traditions that his family has for Bolton weddings. Sansa stopped walking, standing in a place she knew Petyr could see them. Ramsay had finally stopped talking and she fake smiled up at him, trying her best to bat her lashes. Sansa was taller than the dark haired man before her, so to kiss him she had to lean down a bit. He seemed taken back by her advance, but he only hesitated for a moment before his lips pressed back on hers. His kiss was wetter than she expected it to be, more sloppy. His hands seized her shoulders to hold her against him and Sansa suddenly regretted her actions.

A second kiss came after the first one, his lips and body pressing harder against hers. She tried to pull back, but he didn’t seem to be done with her just yet, for he kissed her harder. His teeth bit into her bottom lips and she squeaked in surprise and then gasped at the pain. That seemed to be enough for him to finally let up. He pulled back and grinned in a dark way, licking his lips. Sansa reached up to tend to her bleeding lip, wincing as it throbbed.

“I do, _ very much, _ look forward to bedding you, Sansa.” He told her, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step closer, which she matched with a step back, but her bottom found the stone fountain so she was forced to stop. “I’ll fuck you bloody on our wedding night. I’ve never been with a virgin before, y’know?” He leaned down close to her ear. She was trembling slightly now, her eyes wide from the power of his words: the picture they conjured in Sansa’s head. _ “I can’t wait to break you, Sansa.” _

Break her in her own home, too.

Fear rose inside her at an alarming rate. He finally backed away, smirking up at her as he walked away and out of sight. Sansa closed her eyes, feeling the blood trickle down from her lip and stain the top of her dress. She placed a hand over her pounding heart and tried to focus on slowing it.

She opened her eyes after a long moment and looked back up at the castle but the window stood empty. She felt a shiver creep down her spine as a gust of wind assaulted her hair and dress, making goosebumps arise on her delicate skin: pale porcelain skin that would soon shatter into a million pieces. She would have to be strong and fix herself up again, because it was clear that no one would be doing that for her this time. No one cared.

* * *

Sansa entered her and Petyr’s shared chambers, sighing in relief when she found it empty. She changed quickly into her nightgown, using her already blood-stained dress to clean her chin and mouth of the remaining crimson. As she was finishing, the door opened and Petyr stepped through, his face emotionless. He also began changing, but Sansa kept her head down as she stuffed the ruined dress deep into her trunk. She tried to walk past him to his solar for sleep once again as he pushed his tunic from his shoulders, but he caught her elbow and pulled her back.

“Are you just going to ignore me and sleep in my solar from now until-” He began, stopping abruptly when she whirled around to yell insults at him, but the words never left her mouth, for his eyes dropped down to the raw split in her lip. She could still taste the bitter iron in her mouth, which meant the cut still bled.

Petyr’s grip on her arm loosened substantially as his brow creased. “Did he _ hit _ you?”

Sansa huffed, ripping her arm completely from his hand and turning away. She only made it to the connecting door, however, when he spun her around again. “Sansa!”

“Why do you _ care!?” _ She yelled back, glaring hard at him. His eyes searched her face with a desperation she didn’t expect to find.

“You’re still my wife for now, and if I have any say in it, you will be again. Now _ did he lay a hand on you?” _ He asked slowly, his voice dangerously low.

“No.” Sansa said truthfully, but Petyr didn’t seem convinced. “He bit me.”

Sansa knew Petyr saw her kiss Ramsay, so he didn’t seem all that surprised. Though his jaw did flex, the muscles working back and forth as he clenched his teeth together. It was clear that such an occurrence between her and Ramsay bothered him, but she wasn’t entirely sure why.

Sansa walked away again, feeling angry every time she looked into those eyes of his. Those enticing eyes full of wisdom and intellect, and sometimes even warmth… Though perhaps it was always faked: always a lie. She sat down on the edge of the chaise lounge and sighed, moving her hand up to her lip and dragging her finger across it, wincing as she swiped up a bit more blood. Her shoulders slouched over; she felt defeated.

Petyr found his way beside her, making sure not to touch any part of her. “Sansa.” He said softly, his tongue caressing each syllable in a similar way that it used to caress her very body. She finally surrendered to his gaze, meeting his eyes evenly. They looked only grey in the dim light of his solar, only a single candle burning beside them, but Sansa knew they could also look viridescent at the right time of day: that was her favourite shade.

“Why did you kiss him?” He asked, surprising her.

She blinked in surprise, her tongue darting out to moisten her dry lips, dragging that irony taste back in on it’s retreat. “I…” Was all she managed, feeling like she was swallowed whole by his presence. Did he ever feel that way around her, or was he the only one to ever wield such power?

“Trying to make me jealous, sweetling?” He asked. It sounded like a tease, but his eyes remained dark and serious.

“Did it work?” She blurted out before she could think over it clearly. The corner of his mouth twitched as he watched her.

“It did.” He replied, making Sansa’s insides warm. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Sansa.”

She frowned, feeling that anger once again. “You’re the only one _ playing _, Petyr. This is my life you’re trading so easily.” She reminded him as her gaze shifted darker, a hard glare focused straight at him.

His gaze softened slightly and he broke their eye contact to look down at the ring he was twirling around his thumb. It was a thick band with an intricate engraving along it. It looked almost like words, perhaps a different language. Sansa wondered briefly what it was and why he had it, but her curiosity wasn’t near as strong as her anger, so she let it go for now.

“I don’t want to do this.” She finally said, voice breaking near the end. Her eyes glassed over instantly and she willed herself to hold it in, but it was no use. He looked back up at her and his expression looking conflicted. He tilted his head to the side and sighed. “Please don’t make me.”

His hand curled into a fist and for a moment Sansa felt a pang of fear at the thought of what he might do, but then he relaxed his body again and she realized how ridiculous that fear was. He wouldn’t ever hurt her... not that way. He stood suddenly, letting out another sigh.

“If you change your mind about sleeping here…” He changed topics, making her shoulders drop in defeat. “You’re always welcome back in bed.” Then he headed back to the bedroom, leaving Sansa in the chilly solar. He stopped before he closed the door, looking at her hard.

“Sweet dreams, Sansa.”

He closed the door, creating a small gust of air that blew out that last flickering candle, leaving Sansa in complete darkness.

* * *

The following week, Sansa kept to herself. Ramsay had taken to tormenting her everytime he found himself alone with her. She tried to go places he wouldn’t think to look, but somehow he eventually discovered every single one. She was supposed to leave with them to Winterfell tomorrow morning, which truly terrified her.

The last few days she refused to leave her and Petyr’s chambers with the exception of meals, so he wouldn’t have a chance to speak to her or, as he had begun doing more and more frequently, _ kissing _her. Today, however, Sansa wanted some sun. It was a gorgeous day and she didn’t want her fear of Ramsay to ruin this last piece of happiness that she found here. So she finally left.

She wandered around the treeline for hours, taking a short trip through the gardens and then around the lake before she found herself at that willow tree again. It was truly a beautiful spot, and secluded as well. She should have come here earlier to find some peace, but every part of it reminded her of Petyr. The way that he kissed her and then smiled so genuinely… That couldn’t entirely be fake, could it? Was he _ that _ good an actor?

She let herself lean against the rough bark of the tree, remembering when he read that love poem to her. She was fairly certain her heart now beat to the rhythm that he read to that day. Back when things made sense and Petyr was someone whose attention she craved with every fiber of her being. Did she still crave him?

_ Yes. _

Which is why she was so mad at herself now.

She turned back, not wanting to disrupt that memory and twist it in her mind. It was a good one, and she feared if she sat down there, she’d risk tainting it. As if staying there longer would tamper with it’s preservation and it would soon grow dim and faded in her mind. She didn’t want that… Even if Petyr _ did _betray her.

She walked back to the castle, taking the long way to pass by the stables. As she started to pass it, she decided to stop and peek inside. There were horses on each side, and as she walked, she attracted some attention. The horses stepped as close to her as they could, their long necks stretching over the gate to get closer to her. She smiled, reaching her hand out to stroke along one of the horse’s hair. This one was a dark brown shade, almost black, which seemed darker in the dim lighting. It let out a long breath, its lips flapping slightly from the force of the air being pushed out. Sansa smiled wider, moving her hand to scratch under its chin. She’d never actually ridden a horse before, surprisingly.

She moved onto the next one, whose hair _ was _ actually black. This one was larger than the last, too. Far taller and more intimidating. The next was also brown, but lighter this time, like a beige. The dirt beneath her feet were getting her fabric shoes all dirty, but she couldn’t bring herself to care much. The next horse was a beautiful snowy white. It looked so pure and untouched… It’s hair the whitest she has ever seen. Something about it reminded her of Winterfell.

She reached out, placing her hand above its nose and closing her eyes as the horse leaned forwards, into her touch. She was pulled abruptly from her sweet moment of bonding with this horse when a groan was heard just next to the horse’s stall.

Sansa furrowed her brow in confusion as she investigated closer, pushing open the unlocked gate and stepping inside. She gasped immediately, her hand coming up to cover her gaping mouth. Theon lay inside, his eyes closed as he clutched at his middle section in what looked to be pain. The only thing between him and the dirt ground was a thin layer of old hay. His eyes slowly opened, widening substantially when they set on her.

“Oh, Theon…” She whispered, knowing immediately why he was there. Ramsay would have told him to sleep here… to stay here while he had no use for him. But he didn’t lock the door, just to show the effect and power he had over him. He wouldn’t run, because he was too scared to.

“Go!” He whispered hoarsely, climbing up onto his knees. “Please… If he finds you here…”

“What did he do to you?” She asked, eyeing the blood stain on his shirt and the filth covering his face… She then caught sight of his right hand and saw the few missing fingers. He was truly tortured.

“Sansa…” Theon begged, big tears soaking his face. The path of the tears cleared lines on his face, so it was easy to see how truly dirty he was. “Please go! Don’t ever come back. Get away from him. Far away!”

Sansa’s eyes were wide as she took in his equally-alarmed one’s. He looked terrified. Sansa nodded, slowly backing up. She was about to turn and run out of the stables when a booming voice halted her in place.

“My _ sweet _ bride-to-be!” He exclaimed with open arms at the other end of the stables. He approached her quickly, looking smug. “I see you’ve found where I keep my pet.”

Sansa acted without thinking.

Her hand connected with Ramsay’s cheek and a loud _ ‘crack!’ _sounded.

She was just so _ disgusted _ with the things he had done to Theon, her own _ family. _ She was a wolf and she would fiercely protect her own: her pack.

She immediately felt the severity of what she had just done when everything around her grew quiet. Theon ceased his whimpering and it even seemed like the animals around them became silent and still. Ramsay slowly turned his head back to face her, his eyes dark and dangerous. Sansa had about ten seconds of panic before Ramsay leapt at her, shoving her hard against the wooden beam behind her. He shook her entire body hard, slamming her against the beam another time. Her head collided hard with the wood and she winced.

“You _ bitch!” _ He yelled, backhanding her hard. Sansa screamed from the pain, feeling her world spin sickly for a moment.

“Fucking slut!” Was the next piece of filth that was shouted from between his awful lips, followed by a hard punch to the stomach, that made her grunt sharply and topple over in pain. He let her collapse, spitting down at her as she curled herself up protectively. It was a good thing, too, because the hard leather of his boot was kicked into her ribcage seconds later.

Sansa heard a shout and a loud thud, but didn’t have the strength and courage to look and see what was happening. She stayed there on the ground, hearing the horses go crazy. They stomped loudly and neighed… It was almost like they were trying to call for help.

Eventually Sansa managed to look up and through blurry eyes, she saw Theon wrestling on the ground with the man who had attacked her, and it became clear to her what he had for her; Theon had tackled Ramsay to the floor so he couldn’t hurt her anymore.

But Ramsay was far stronger than Theon, and he quickly got the upper hand and started hitting him repeatedly. Sansa groaned as she pushed herself up, clutching her abdomen in pain as she stumbled towards them.

“No, stop! Please!” She begged, placing a hand on Ramsay’s shoulder. Theon was already a bloody mess and Sansa immediately felt bad for causing all of this. Why couldn’t she have restrained herself?

To her surprise, Ramsay actually _ did _ stop. He stood up, a small splatter of blood on his neck from one of the times he hit Theon. He looked enraged. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it back, so her head was forced backwards as well, her neck fully exposed. She gasped and then cried out, watching as his eyes devoured her. That was when she realized he was _ turned on! _There’s no way she’d survive as his wife. She certainly wouldn’t be the same afterwards.

“Ungrateful piece of filth.” He spat down at Theon, making him cower in the furthest corner. “You'll be paying for that for weeks.” He threatened, making the other man’s eyes widen further than she’s ever seen them.

Ramsay laughed, letting Sansa go. She took multiple large steps backwards, bumping into the head of the white horse she’d been admiring earlier. It nudged at her, curiously, almost as if concerned.

“Did he tell you what I did to him?” Ramsay asked her, smirking as he wiped his bloody hands off on his trousers. Theon whimpered louder, peaking Sansa’s curiosity. _ What could he have possibly done? _ “Did he tell you that I made it _ impossible _ for him to ever make an heir? To ever find pleasure again?” With each question he stalked closer and closer to her.

Sansa’s eyes widened. He…

“That’s right.” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll do the same to you? Start with your nipples and go from there.” Sansa cried harder, backing up so the horse’s head was in between her and her future husband. “Once we get to Winterfell, I’ll be sure to tell my father to speed up the wedding plans. _ I can’t wait! _”

"Oh but don't feel too badly for him." He continued with a sneer as he glared Theon's way again. "He killed your younger brothers before I took Winterfell. Burned them and then strung them up for all to see."

Sansa glanced Theon's way, her eyes wide and her chest tight._ He wouldn't, would he?_ Bran and baby Rickon? She knew they were dead... but how could _Theon_ do that?

With that he finally left, shouting an order Theon’s way to follow him, and he did, leaving Sansa alone with the animals. She let out a shuddering breath and sobbed into the neck of the horse. It curled it’s head around her back, hugging her as she cried. The action offered comfort, but it only made her cry harder.

She would not do this.

She needed to find Petyr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be the first one to say it here: Fuck Ramsay, honestly.
> 
> How do we feel about Theon protecting Sansa?
> 
> The separation and the hurt between Sansa and Petyr broke my heart a little. This sadness is hard to write, sometimes!


	11. The Lowest Low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This nice long chapter is for my girl @/omlgillen on Instagram because she distracted me endlessly for two days as I was writing it ;;))
> 
> Just so you all know... there's a bit of non-con in this chapter. Not rape, no need to worry... but you'll understand when you read it.

He wasn’t in his solar or their bedroom, and in fear of finding a Bolton before she found her husband, she stayed put in their chambers and waited. It must have been hours later and he still hadn’t come… though it at least gave her an opportunity to clean herself up. She dried her tears and gazed into her reflection. There were no marks or cuts on her face, thankfully, but her left cheek was still bright red from the impact. She started unlacing the back of her dress, but the door finally opened, so she abruptly stopped and looked up.

Petyr didn’t seem surprised to see her, which made sense seeing as she had been bound in their room for days prior to this. He tried to give her a smile but it quickly fell when his eyes met hers.

“Sweetling?” He questioned, shutting the door behind him as he stared cautiously at her. That was all it took...

She broke.

She didn’t even remember running to him, but she must have, because suddenly she was beside the door and his arms were wrapped securely around her. “Sansa!? What’s wrong?” He asked, trying to pull her back by the shoulders to get a good look at her, but she just clung to him tighter. He finally let up, holding her in return just as hard while she cried into his neck.

“I can’t… I can’t…” She cried, digging her nails into his clothing, piercing the skin beneath it. He finally managed to pry her off of him, taking her face in both his hands and searching her eyes desperately. “Please don’t make me.”

He sighed, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and thinking hard for a moment. He shook his head slowly. “They won’t let me just back out of the deal, Sansa. They would just take you anyways, and what could I do to stop them? I don’t have an army.”

Sansa cried harder knowing that her fate was sealed. That there was _ no way _ she could get out of this arrangement now that it was already made. Was this her life now? Arranged marriages that she did not choose.

She didn’t know how much time went by, only that Petyr had lifted her and carried her over to the bed. All she knew was that he had stayed with her, held her as she cried. He soothed her with a hand running through her hair and the other down her back.

Eventually her tears dried and she was just left sniffling, feeling embarrassed for breaking down so badly in front of him. She glanced up at him but he was clearly in another place, his eyes cold and hard as he stared up at the ceiling and worked his jaw. He was in deep thought, that was forsure.

The hand stroking through her hair suddenly rubbed over the sore place where Ramsay had slammed her against the wooden beam earlier, and she hissed, flinching away from him. That immediately caught his attention and he frowned in confusion.

“What is it?” He asked, sitting up to face her properly. She chewed at the inside of her cheek as she thought of how to explain what happened.

“I…” She paused, sighing deeply. “I was in the stables and I saw Theon. He was laying there in the muck. Then Ramsay showed up and- well…”

“What happened?” He asked cautiously, evenly.

She gulped. “I slapped him. I couldn’t help myself.” She explained, remembering how she slapped Petyr not too long ago as well, and how he still didn’t lay a hand on her in return, _ because he would never do that. _“He didn’t take it well.”

Petyr’s eyes darkened and his voice dropped when he said: “What did he do?”

In response she slowly moved to the edge of the bed, wincing at every movement that caused her torso to shift in the wrong direction. She could already feel the bruising. She stood on wobbly feet and her husband was quick to steady her, standing alongside her with his hands on her waist.

She began unlacing her dress again but the further down the laces went, the more painful it was for her to reach them. Petyr seemed to notice this, for he placed his own warm hands on hers to stop their movements. “I’ll do it.” He reassured her as she moved her hands back to her sides and he finished untying her dress.

He pushed it off her shoulders and then respectfully waited for her next move. She turned around to face him, reaching for his hands and placing them down at the hem of her shift. He seemed to understand, for he slowly brought it up, looking into her eyes the entire time. Once the fabric was pulled over her head and she was left in nothing but her underthings, her chest bare, she watched his eyes travel down to the bruises blossoming on her pale skin.

His lips parted in surprise and his eyes widened. He clearly wasn’t expecting to see what he was currently seeing before him. Sansa hadn’t even looked at the marks yet, so she turned her gaze to the side where the vanity stood. There was a bruise where he’d punched her, near the middle of her abdomen, but it wasn’t very dark. By far the worse mark was the deep purple -almost black- bruise that spanned across her left rib cage where he’d kicked her. Sansa winced, remembering how painful it was to feel the tip of his boot lodged up between her ribs.

Her attention was brought back to the man in front of her when one of his hands brushed the darkened skin over her rib cage and she recoiled in pain. He looked so torn… almost _ distraught. _ He exhaled harshly, his eyes finding hers. She was taken aback by how lost they looked staring into her own. “He did this to you?” He asked and she slowly nodded, watching a series of conflicting emotions sift across his face.

He thought for a long moment before bending down and picking up her shift, pulling it back over her head. She adjusted it around her thin body as he then proceeded to pick up her dress. Once she was fully laced up again, he held his hand out for her to take, but she hesitated, still angry and hurt with him.

“Come.” He encouraged her and she finally placed her hand in his. It felt so nice to touch him after all this time. He led her down the halls to one of the rooms and knocked, but no one answered, so he then brought her down a few flights of stairs and into a common room that Sansa had yet to spend any time in as the Bolton’s seemed to always occupy it.

It was a large room with a giant fireplace on one wall and tasteful furniture lining the opposite one. There was a beautiful red carpet with tassels on every edge that covered almost the entire floor, stopping the cold seeping through from the stone beneath it.

“Lord Bolton.” Petyr greeted, addressing Roose and ignoring Ramsay entirely. “Would you mind if we joined you?” He asked, making Sansa feel both nervous and uncomfortable. _ What was he doing…? _

“By all means, Lord Baelish.” Roose replied, sitting up so there was room for everyone on the couch. Petyr pulled her along with him and they sat together. Roose and Ramsay shared a confused look before Roose voiced Sansa’s thoughts aloud. “What’s going on, Petyr?”

Petyr cleared his throat. “I lied to you both when I suggested this trade.” Everyone in the room knew that by _ ‘trade’ _, he meant Sansa in exchange for a small army.

Roose sat up straighter, looking caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?” He questioned with a frown.

“I told you that you’d be getting a maiden for a bride. I lied.” Petyr paused, licking his lips to moisten them. Sansa frowned in confusion, wondering what this was all about. “She is _ not _ a maiden, which I know for certain, because I broke her hymen, myself.”

Sansa didn’t know where he was going with this and why she was hearing it. He was lying, Sansa knew, but she wasn’t sure if she liked this lie or not, just yet. “So… What are you telling us, Baelish?” Roose asked bluntly.

“Just that… I thought I could pay someone to lie when she was examined, but when I tried bribing your maester today, it became clear that your people are far more loyal than I gave them credit for.” Petyr lied again, though Sansa came to believe that any lie will be believed as long as it’s a compliment.

Roose began laughing, and by the look on Petyr’s face, that wasn’t what he was going for. “I don’t care about the girl’s damned virtue! My son’s a bastard, anyway. I care about her name.”

Petyr’s jaw worked for a second until he smiled charmingly. “Of course, my lord. Though… this also means that mine and Sansa’s marriage _ is _ in fact consummated and therefore, legitimate.”

Then Sansa started to understand. He was trying to get her out of this! He was trying to get the Bolton’s to call off the wedding. He was giving up an army as well as his neatly-laid plans to keep her safe with him in Harrenhal as his wife. He was trying to maneuver his way out of this agreement.

Roose looked around the room, as if checking if anyone was eavesdropping. “No one outside of this room, besides my maester, knows for certain that your marriage was consummated, yes?”

Petyr hesitated, seemingly realizing where the other man’s head was at. “Yes.” Petyr reluctantly confirmed with a small nod.

“Excellent! Well as long as no one here lets the news slip, it won’t be a problem.” Roose shrugged casually, leaning back against the cushions again. Ramsay certainly seemed displeased by Petyr’s confession, but he didn’t dare voice his opinion in front of his father.

Sansa looked to Petyr, expecting another point of argument to conjure in his mind, but he looked unsettled. Sansa began to worry again. He was supposed to have a quicksilver brain with a sharp tongue to match, but he just gave up after a few setbacks. Where was the clever Petyr that she knew?

“And what if I can offer you something better?” He blurted out, swallowing thickly afterwards. It was clear to Sansa that he was taking this one sentence at a time… It was clear that this was not a planned out or rehearsed conversation. He was making it up on the spot.

“Something better?” Ramsay finally piped up. “Better than Sansa Stark?”

“Baelish, do we have to waste each other’s time? We need a Stark and she’s the only living one remaining, so-”

“And what if she wasn’t?” He cut Roose off, surprising everyone in the room, including Sansa. _ What was he getting at? _

“Care to elaborate, Baelish?” Roose snapped, clearly not in the mood for mind games. Though Sansa knew that Petyr’s shady comments had less to do with being cryptic and more to do with not knowing what he was going to say next; trying desperately to string sentences together in his mind.

“What if I could get you a different Stark girl?” Petyr questioned. “One that would strengthen your claim on Winterfell even more than Sansa, because she is yet to be married. And as far as I know… She’s even still a maiden.” Ramsay seemed to perk up at the sound of that.

Was he talking about…? But she was dead. It was confirmed a couple of weeks ago.

“Arya Stark.” Petyr finally finished, but Roose snorted a laugh as he rolled his eyes.

“The girl’s dead, Baelish. I knew you worked some magic as the master of coin for the crown, but how are you going to manage this one?” Roose gabbed, smirking in amusement at his own joke.

Sansa was beyond confused.

“No tricks, and certainly no magic… Arya lives.” Petyr confessed. Sansa felt her heart jump in excitement before she reminded herself that Petyr was most likely lying to the Bolton’s to get what he wants. “I sent someone to her rescue before I sunk her ship to the bottom of the sea. I have her. It would take me a little under a day to get her here… but we could _ adjust _ our agreement so the deal still stands… but for Arya Stark instead of my wife.”

Was any of this the truth? Did _ he _ really sink her ship? Did he save her before he did so? Did he really have her in his custody? Was she truly alive? Or was all of this make believe and he had nothing to do with her death at all?

“You have Arya?” Roose repeated in disbelief. “Truly?”

Petyr nodded to confirm it. “Just give me until the end of tomorrow and I’ll prove it to you.”

“If you can get Arya Stark here by tomorrow, then you have yourself a deal.” Roose told him, shaking his hand before Petyr stood and smiled charmingly down at both of them.

“Brilliant! I shall go send the necessary ravens now.” He told them, holding out his hand to Sansa again.”Come, my dear.”

She allowed him to pull her to her feet and lead her back to their room. When the door shut behind them, she rounded on him.

_ "What _ is going on!?" Sansa demanded, her hands on her hips.

"What does it look like? I’m getting you out of that damn agreement." He replied, moving to the solar. She followed him, hot on his tail. He sat down at his desk and picked up his quill, writing out the start of a letter.

"But Arya is… she's not-"

Petyr sighed, placing down the quill and looking up at her. "I haven't been entirely truthful with you." He admitted, looking far from guilty… Almost _ impatient. _

Sansa frowned. _ What now? _

"I was the one that sunk the ship that your sister was travelling on." He admitted, making her gap in confusion. "Before I sunk it, I sent someone to get her."

"She's alive?" Sansa breathed in disbelief, feeling her heart skip a beat.

"Yes."

They were both quiet for a long time as Sansa digested the information. She took a few steps back, sitting down on the chaise lounge to catch her breath as she felt her head spin. Petyr had continued writing his letter, rolling it up and then sealing it with his wax sigil.

"And you…" Sansa finally found her voice again. "You let me believe she was dead?"

Petyr looked up at her, his face once again expressionless. She wondered how he did that so easily; how he just put a mask over all his emotions. "I needed everyone to believe she was dead. I needed your unadulterated reaction in King’s Landing."

"I could have faked it! Or you could have told me after! You could have told me that my sister is _ alive!" _ She countered, standing and stepping closer. "Why did you keep that to yourself?" Sansa suddenly wondered if there would ever be a time again when she wasn’t angry with him.

"I have other plans for her, Sansa. Dangerous ones. What's the point in getting your hopes up if she ends up dead in a week, anyways?" He paused, starting a second letter. "I was going to tell you eventually."

Sansa huffed. "Because that makes it all better!?" He didn't respond, just frowned as he finished his second letter. "Well, where is she?"

He rolled up the letter and started melting more of the wax over the candle on his desk as he looked up at her. "Far from here."

"So… you aren't bringing her here, or are you? Because if it's between me or my sister… I'd rather go with Ramsay myself. I'd never let my sister take my place." She told him, crossing her arms defiantly.

He breathed a laugh. "How noble of you."

Sansa glared at him. "She's my sister!"

"Yes, and when a girl shows up tomorrow, whom I refer to as Arya Stark, you will tell the Bolton’s exactly that." He said simply, sealing his previous letter and then cleaning up his supplies as he stood from the chair.

"I don't understand."

"You remember your old friend Jeyne?" He asked, catching her off guard.

"Uhm… Well, yes, of course. We were very close for a time. She accompanied me to King’s Landing." She shrugged. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"She's the right age. Dark hair and brown eyes… She has the Stark look." Was all he said in reply. “Mind you, she’s quite a bit prettier than your sister is.”

Sansa knew that already. In truth, Sansa hadn’t seen her younger sister in years, so she may look a bit different now, but Sansa doubted it. Arya has always had a masculine energy. She never cared about the girly things that Sansa did. She liked getting dirty and finding all sorts of trouble… Sword fighting with her brothers and shooting arrows behind their mother’s back. Jeyne was much like Sansa: She cared about her hair, her nails, her appearance. She had round cheeks and fair skin… her hair far longer than Arya ever let her own grow.

An unreasonable spark of jealousy also ignited her anger when Petyr said he found Jeyne pretty. _ What a ridiculous thing to care about at a time like this. We’ve already established that he doesn’t care about you. _ But then again... Why go to such lengths to get her away from Ramsay?

"Wait…" Sansa said as she licked her lips in thought. "You don't mean…"

Play Jeyne Poole off as Arya Stark?

"No one here but you, Theon and myself has ever seen Arya. Your old friend Jeyne could pass as her. You’ll have your opportunity tomorrow to act the part. Prove me wrong that you don’t need to be kept in the dark: That you can take care of things yourself.” He paused, crossing his arms. Sansa’s anger flared. “You’ll be happy to see her, of course, but you’ll also cry as Ramsay takes her away, knowing that she’ll be suffering at his hands for you.”

Sansa frowned, then. “I can’t let Jeyne do that for me! What makes you think she’ll agree?” She asked him. Jeyne was a sweet girl and unbelievably kind, if not a little vulgar at times; Jeyne was the person that used to tell Sansa about sex and secrets before she ever even bled for the first time. But Sansa couldn’t see Jeyne taking Sansa’s place so easily, and if Petyr was going to force her or, more likely, trick her… She would not stand for it.

He held up one finger in her direction to tell her that he would be back in a moment. He brought the two scrolls with him, returning some short minutes later with empty hands. He sat down beside her with a sigh before running a hand through his hair. Sansa got distracted for a split second by the new messiness of his curly locks. She liked it like that a lot.

“Her dear father is sick, regrettably so.” He told her. Sansa immediately felt her stomach drop. Her father was all she had. “She is desperate to find him help. I’ve just sent her a raven, telling her that any medical care that he needs will be at my expense, if she pretends to be your sister and marry Ramsay for the time being.”

“You think that’ll be enough?” Sansa asked, still surprised even though she understood the need to do _ anything _ to protect family. “Does she know about Ramsay?”

“She does. You forget that her father still remains in Winterfell. That’s another advantage for her… She’ll be out of King’s Landing for good and reunited with her dying father.” He told her.

_ Oh Jeyne, _ she thought.

Sansa nodded slowly, finally feeling like she digested all of it. Sansa hated the idea of anyone taking her place... let alone her old friend. But if she knew about Ramsay and was still willing to play along for her father's sake...

Sansa sighed. How awful of a person has she become if she's willing to let Jeyne do this for her? Or maybe that was just Petyr wearing off on her.

Another question popped up in her mind: “So are you not going to tell me where my sister actually is?”

Petyr smirked, looking a little proud for some reason. He puffed out his chest slightly. “Not yet. She’s doing something for me and I don’t want to say it aloud until the task is complete… You never know which walls have ears here.” He said as he gestured around them.

“Why would she do something for you?” Sansa questioned.

“Because it benefits her.” He offered. Then: “Because I have you.”

“You’re blackmailing her with me?” Sansa clarified. Petyr licked his lips. Nodded.

“Yes, Sansa.” He waited a long moment, taking in her scowl. “You’re more intelligent than I bargained for.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” She snapped back, not knowing how she felt about him after all this. Still angry? Yes; he kept the knowledge of her sister a secret and his previous betrayal still stung… not to mention that he’s putting her old friend in the hands of a monster. But was she also grateful? Yes. He got her out of that deal, the reason for that she was still unsure about. And he also saved her sister… If she really was going on a suicidal mission to kill Cersei, that is.

He chuckled lightly. “It’s certainly not an insult, my dear.”

Sansa sighed, twisting her mouth as she considered everything. What did this all mean? She was beyond relieved that she wasn’t the last true remaining Stark… but the fact that Petyr had her doing his dirty work made her uneasy. What could _ she _ possibly be trained well enough to accomplish in Petyr’s plans? Her dancing lessons? Would she ever actually kill someone? What _ are _ Petyr’s plans, anyway? Besides ruling with her in Winterfell, that is. All these burning questions ached her brain.

“So… Is that everything then? Because I think I need to lay down for the night.” Sansa asked, moving her hand to her head and rubbing soothing circles into her right temple. Her body also ached from Ramsay’s earlier beatings. She could feel the day catching up to her already and it was barely dark.

Petyr suddenly looked apprehensive. “Not quite… There’s one more thing.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked down at it, considering whether she wanted him to touch her or not before slowly moving her arm out of his grasp. He hesitated.

“I told Roose that you weren’t a maiden.”

Sansa’s brow drew together. She nodded. “But we both know that isn’t true.” He continued.

“Yes…” She mouthed, nodding along, but not quite understanding the grim look on his face.

“He’ll have you examined tomorrow morning, Sansa. To make sure I’m not lying. And when they find out that I _am_ lying... They won’t stay and wait for Arya, they’ll take you instead.” He told her, swallowing thickly.

“Okay, so… What do we do, then?” She asked, shrugging. He went quiet and her stomach twisted nervously, as if her body knew the answer before her mind had the chance to catch up. He tilted his head to the side and gave her a hard look... It was only then that she finally understood what he had been trying to tell her. “What!? No! Petyr…” She hugged herself, feeling instantly uncomfortable. “Not now.”

“The timing is… Unfortunate.” He agreed in that infuriatingly closed off way of his.

“I-I can’t even… really look at you! You betrayed me and lied and manipulated me during times when I thought we were actually connecting… You let him _ hurt _ me!”

Petyr’s eyes dropped down to the space between them for a moment until he found the strength to meet the look of despair in her eyes again. “You let me believe the last of my family was dead. You let me believe for days that I was going to have to endure Ramsay! You had me terrified!” Her voice just got louder and louder as she got more and more worked up.

“And now… now…” Her voice finally caught. “Now you want me to lay with you, after I tried to do exactly that for _ so _ long!”

He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again. He inhaled slowly through his nose as he accepted everything that she threw at him. “Yes.” He agreed.

“Well I won’t!” She exclaimed, feeling a little childish for acting in such a way, but also not caring because she was so confused and angry and hurt that she felt a little numb to everything else.

“Sansa..” He sighed. “You don’t have a choice. It’s either we do this tonight or you go with Ramsay tomorrow. Those are your options.” It bothered her how impartial he was being through all of this: all of her pain. Was he some kind of otherworldly creature that didn’t experience feelings? Emotions? It sure seemed that way.

Sansa huffed, closing her eyes and hugging herself tighter. “I hate this.” She said as she kept her eyes closed. “I hate _ you _.”

When she opened her eyes, he was still looking at her. Still with that unreadable expression. His jaw clenched once… twice… a tiny flicker of muscles that almost went unnoticed. He nodded, almost curtly, and it drove her insane. She unfolded her arms to hit him hard on the shoulder, almost wishing he would retaliate so she could have another reason to hate him. So a part of her wouldn’t continue to have very _ not-hate _ feelings for him. But he didn’t. He just… took it.

She hit him a second time, closer to his heart, which resounded in a loud _ ‘thump!’ _ as her fist met with his chest. She continued to strike him, her arms flailing as the tears poured down her face and splashed onto her knees, which were bare because of how much her dress hitched up.

Eventually he seemed to have had enough, because he caught her wrists and held them tightly. She continued to fight him, but he only let go of her hands to push her front against his. It was an awkward hugging position… Her forehead had fallen onto his hard shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around her torso, leaving no room between them so she couldn’t assault him any longer.

"Are you finished?" He breathed into her hair and she ground her teeth, feeling nothing but hatred in this moment.

She couldn't look at him when he finally let her go, knowing what had to come next. He slowly stood, looking down at her as he offered his hand. She scowled at him, standing on her own and breezing past him. She could hear him walking behind her. The closer they got to their shared bed, the more Sansa felt like she would puke. _ Is this truly how this is going to happen? _

“Do you want to undress yourself, or shall I?” He asked, adding fuel to the fire raging inside her bones. She ignored him completely, knowing that she’d only end up yelling or hitting him again if she tried to reply.

Instead, she aggressively yanked at the lacing behind her, ignoring the burn of pain in her abdomen from Ramsay’s beating. When she finished, she pulled it from her body, her shift following. She left her underthings on for now, not feeling courageous enough yet to discard those. She climbed onto their high bed without looking at him, drawing the sheets back and diving under to limit her embarrassment at being so exposed.

She stared straight ahead, clutching the sheet to her bare chest as she waited for him. She could see him in her peripheral version, taking his time undressing. She was annoyingly aware of his eyes on her as he stripped himself of his clothing. He too, left that last thin layer of clothing on around his hips.

He joined her on the bed, his body just as tense as her’s. “This is not how I imagined our first time either, Sansa.”

She knew his words were meant to be reassuring: that this also wasn’t how he envisioned their union. But they didn’t help tame the hurricane of feelings whirling inside. They didn’t help ease her nerves and embarrassment: her pain and anger.

“Could you look at me!?” He snapped, showing the first signs of anger since he gazed at her bruises earlier. Her eyes slowly found their way to his. He looked far less intimidating with his clothes off, his scar exposed. It gave her a small bit of comfort.

“Just get on with it.” She told him, bravely holding his gaze. He flinched, ever so slightly, as if her comment had hurt him. Then his eyes saddened and he licked his lips.

“As you wish, Sansa.” He said quietly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to push the final layer of clothing down and off. Then he came back over to her and she kept her stare up at the ceiling, not wanting to see his arousal to fuck her. He got under the sheets and found his way on top of her, hovering so his body didn’t yet touch hers. He peeled her underthings down her lifeless legs and then tossed them to the side. Still, he didn’t touch her. And still, she stared upwards.

She began to wonder what he was waiting for when long moments of silence went by and he still hadn’t done anything. Suddenly, a frustrated sigh escaped his lips and she finally looked down to see what in the hell was going on. And _ oh! _ She wasn’t expecting to see that.

He was slowly stroking himself, trying to get ready for her. But by the looks of it, it wasn’t working. She’d never seen him like this: exposed but not aroused.

“Fucking hell!” Petyr groaned in frustration as he let go of himself and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and sat up on his knees, exposing himself further to her. She could tell how much he also wished things could be different. His eyes met hers and he looked embarrassed. Though it actually made her feel better that he was having trouble getting hard; it was the only proof that he wasn’t _ entirely _ heartless. He was about to have sex with her for the first time and his body wasn’t even interested.

“Just give me a minute.” He said gruffly, working himself again as he looked down at her naked body. “Can I kiss you, at least?” He asked out of the blue and she blinked in surprise. She shook her head. _ No, that was far too intimate. _

She waited a bit longer, but it was clear that his hand wasn’t doing it for him. She sighed, reaching up and placing her own hand over his. As much as she hated him now… She knew that he was a million times better than Ramsay and this was the only way to ensure that she stayed safe in Harrenhal and away from the Boltons. He seemed surprised, but he let her touch him however she wanted. His own hands resting on her stomach and hips, his rings making her stomach muscles clench from their unexpected coolness as they skimmed over her skin. He traced her bruises with a delicate touch that almost tickled, before one hand slowly slid down to her thigh. She flinched, glaring at him warningly.

”It’ll hurt if you aren’t ready, Sansa.” He reminded her, running his finger over her dry nether lips. He made a face, as if disappointed that she wasn’t wet for him. He started rubbing her gently with his thumb, massaging her as she continued to stroke his now hardening cock.

He moved her hand away from him and Sansa’s stomach twisted anxiously, but he only backed away, which made her frown in confusion. That is until he hooked his arms under her legs to drape them over his shoulders. She watched his mouth descend on her, remembering the other times he feasted on her and how unbelievable it had felt. This time was no exception. His mouth felt just as good as it always did and she felt her body start to give into him. It wasn’t fair how well he could work her up with just his tongue.

He lapped at her slowly, caressing her in such a passionate way. Sansa hadn’t realized her eyes were closed until he hit her clit and they flew open as she held back her noises of pleasure. Their eyes locked and what Sansa found there unnerved her. His eyes weren’t darkened with lust or full of hunger. They were a clouded green, and they looked straight into her soul. His eyes held despair but also a large amount of tenderness. He was being open with her for the first time in over a week. His eyes closed, then, and he stroked her with his tongue affectionately, as if trying to tell her something that he couldn’t with words. That’s when it occurred to her that he was apologizing.

It took longer than it ever has before, which probably had a lot to do with how little she was worked up beforehand and also how slowly he was tending to her, but she did come. She was conflicted about finishing, too. It didn’t feel good to know Petyr had the satisfaction of making her come… But it also reminded her of the times he’d finished her before: happier times where things weren’t so complicated.

He gave her a few more good licks before crawling up her body and resting a hand on either side of her head as he looked down at her. He was good and ready now… she could feel it pressing against her inner thigh. He was waiting for her to say something, she realized after she stared at him for a few long minutes. “I’m nervous.” She whispered, feeling all her insecurities rush through her at full force.

He nodded, shifting his weight onto one hand so he could cup her cheek. “I’ll go easy. I promise.” He reassured her but it did little to calm the pounding of her heart and the butterflies causing mayhem in her stomach.

“Like I can trust anything you say.” She countered.

He tilted his head to the side as his eyes seared like hot coals into hers. “Can you not put your feelings towards me aside for tonight? It could be nice, Sansa… If you let it.”

She scoffed, turning her head to the side to escape from his eyes like a coward. “Let’s just get this over with. You’ve dragged it on long enough.” Was her hateful answer.

She didn’t have enough courage to look at him and catch his possibly hurt, possibly angry expression. So instead she closed her eyes and kept her face turned to the side. After a moment she felt him gently spread her legs and then settle his weight on her. He wasn’t crushing in anyway, and if the circumstances were different… she may even enjoy the feel of him pressing her down into the mattress. Now it just felt suffocating.

She felt him align himself with her entrance and it was the first time she really felt scared. It would hurt, wouldn’t it? She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it as Petyr adjusted himself. “Sansa.” He breathed. It sounded desperate. “Will you please look at me?”

She refused. As her husband, he had the right to take almost everything from her. But not this. She would not give him this.

He huffed, clearly done with her at this point. Then she felt him start pressing in and her eyes screwed shut even tighter than they were before. It _ hurt _.

“Sansa, don’t.” He groaned and she finally opened her eyes. He was barely inside her at all. “You have to open up to me, sweet. I don’t want to hurt you.” He told her and she begrudgingly listened, trying to calm her body with a deep breath. “That’s it.” He said encouragingly as he pressed further. He seemed to find some resistance, for he suddenly stopped and began caressing her hips with his thumbs.

“Deep breath, love.” He instructed.

She listened, finally meeting his eyes as she inhaled deeply. Then he moved sharply, surprising her with a sudden, piercing pain. She gasped, her eyes widening as they stung with tears. She held back her whimper of pain, not wanting him to hear it, but he seemed to see right through her. _ “Shh. _ That’s it. You did well.”

He waited for her to adjust to the feeling before he started rocking against her. At first the sensation caused a dull ache inside of her, but eventually the ache lessoned and she started to understand why people liked this so much. “Are you okay?” He asked and she ignored him, looking away again. It felt good to be so full: complete, almost.

He must have taken that as her answer, for he pulled out a little before thrusting back in. He repeated those motions multiple times, not making a sound of pleasure as he moved. Sansa almost hated that through all of this, he still found a way to give her pleasure. She could feel it in her toes… A pleasant tingling sensation that spread up her legs. She knew he was trying to make it nice for her, but she was too stubborn and upset to care. She just wanted it to be over.

Petyr brought her out of her tormented mind with a soft kiss to the cheek. “How do you feel now?” He asked, sounding hopeful.

She opened her eyes and turned to him again, feeling the tears that stung earlier finally fall down her cheeks. He was still thrusting gently inside her, but when his eyes met hers, he slowed almost completely with a concerned look on his face. “Am I hurting you?” He asked with a frown. _ Yes. _

“Can you just hurry up and finish already?” She asked coldly, looking away.

He stayed still inside her for a long moment until swiftly pulling out and rolling off of her. Sansa’s head snapped to the side to stare at him in question as she closed her legs together tightly and brought the sheet back over her nakedness. _ Was that it? _

“What are you doing?” She asked, but it was now his turn to ignore her, it seemed.

He pumped himself with his hand a few times until he came with a grunt, immediately drying himself with the sheet and then standing to dress. It was obvious he was upset… Even mad.

“Your hymen is broken and I’ve stretched you out enough for there to be no doubts tomorrow. There’s no need to continue if you don’t want it.” He explained as he tied his laces, which hung loose at the front of his trousers.

He didn’t look at her as he bent low to collect the rest of his clothes. “You can have the bed tonight.”

And then he left.

And Sansa curled into a ball, closing her eyes regrettably as she cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> I am here for therapy if you need me.
> 
> Hey, at least Sansa isn't going to have to marry Ramsay!
> 
> ...but yeah that was kind of brutal.
> 
> Petyr pulled some fast thinking shit, though, didn't he? That's why Sansa feels so conflicted right now... A part of her feels grateful but at the same time she knows that he caused all of this in the first place. And he lied to Sansa... used her as a pawn. AND he allowed Ramsay to physically harm her... And then she was expected to sleep with him? -She understands his reasoning as to WHY, but it seemed to her like a heartbreaking task to complete.
> 
> We're here for you, Sansa.
> 
> And PETYR. He realized his mistakes when he saw those bruises and immediately tried to rectify the situation with some lies and some quick thinking (thank god🙌). He knows that he'll have to consummate their marriage before the morning, because Roose wasn't one to not double check every option. But he hated that he had to force her. Had to hurt her further. He'd imagined that moment in his mind for years, and it broke his heart to have that dream shattered so brutally by her stubbornness and anger at him. -Which of course, he totally understood. She had every right to hate him.
> 
> We're also here for you, Pete.


	12. The Risk - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii !
> 
> Had to break this chapter into 2 because it was wayyyyyy too long. So the next chapter will be coming very soon.

Sansa woke to a loud knock at the door. She hadn't even known that she'd fallen asleep in the first place. She sat up, holding the sheet tightly against her naked body as she rubbed the dried, crusted tears from her eyes.

The door to her left opened swiftly, revealing Petyr fully dressed in yesterday's clothes. His hair was straightened as it normally was, and he looked to be wide awake.

Their eyes met for a long, painful moment until he looked down at the ground and proceeded towards the door that led to the hallway. Sansa scrambled, not knowing what to do and wishing she wasn't completely naked.

Petyr didn't seem to care how she felt about being exposed, for he opened the door wide and greeted their guests with a charming smile.

It was Roose Bolton with maester Wolkan at his side. They bid Petyr and Sansa a good morning as they entered their chambers, but Sansa was too flustered to reply in kind.

"I hope you don't mind, Baelish, but you know how it is…" Lord Bolton smirked over at Sansa as she tried to hide her indecency to the men in the room.

She knew why he was here. The maester was going to examine her, just as Petyr said he would. She supposed she didn't have to be dressed for such an examination, but a dress without the small clothes would have at least given her some dignity.

The maester stepped around the bed towards her and she looked pleadingly at Petyr. Did _ Roose Bolton _ really have to witness this?

"Lord Bolton," Petyr started, turning to the man beside him. "What do you say we give my lady some privacy?"

He gestured to the door leading to his solar and the other man followed, leaving Sansa alone with maester Wolkan. The man approached her with his hands clasped behind his back and an easy smile upon his face.

"My lady." He bowed his head at her once he came to her side. "I apologize for pulling you from bed to do this."

_ It's not him that should be apologizing, _ she thought bitterly.

"No need to, maester Wolkan." She dismissed his apology and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Will this position do well enough?"

If he was surprised or offended by her short response and eagerness to get this part over with, then he didn't show it. Instead he stepped closer, so his lower stomach almost touched her bare knees.

"Indeed, my lady." He replied, moving his hands to his sides. "Apologies, but I'll just need you to open up your legs for me."

Sansa clutched the sheet tighter to the rest of her naked body as she pushed past the embarrassment and laid down horizontally on the bed. She spread her legs for the maester and closed her eyes as he poked and prodded the parts that Petyr had just last night… poked and prodded himself. Though the maester didn't use the same appendage that her lord husband had.

Once the maester withdrew, Sansa's legs shut tightly before sitting up to face him. "Have you gotten your moon blood, my lady?" He asked, making Sansa frown in confusion. _ No, she was weeks away from that. _

He held up a small white cloth that he must have brought with him, a deep red blough in the center of it, staining the material crimson. Sansa's eyes widened slightly. Had she _ bled _ last night? She didn't know one could bleed after such activities.

"I- Yes, maester Wolkan. I apologize for not cleaning myself properly beforehand. I was not aware that this would be happening this morning. Today should be my last day to bleed this moon." She apologized, not actually caring in the slightest that she wasn't perfectly clean for his inspection.

He shook his head, folding the piece of cloth in two and then lowering it to rest at his side in the palm of his hand. "No need for that, my lady. A woman can not control when she bleeds, or how much."

Sansa opened her mouth to respond in kind, but the door to Petyr's solar cracked open a few inches. "Maester Wolkan, my lady, May we enter?" Petyr's voice called through the wooden door.

Sansa adjusted herself a bit so her legs were once again hidden, before she responded to his question. The door pushed open and both men walked out.

"Well maester? Thoroughly broken in?" Petyr joked, sending a smirk in Roose's direction. The other man gave a short laugh as he shared a knowing look with her husband.

"Lady Sansa is most definitely not a maiden, my lords." He confirmed with a nod of his head as he walked around the bed and towards them.

"Alright well," Roose started, turning Petyr's direction. "I certainly hope the news will be better when the other sister arrives here later tonight. That _ is _ still the plan, Baelish?"

"Of course, my lord." Petyr replied. "Why, I sent the raven last night. She will be on her way by now."

"Where exactly is she coming from?" Bolton inquired, ignoring Sansa's presence entirely. Which was perfectly fine by her.

Petyr smirked. "King's Landing of course!"

"King's Landing!" Roose breathed a laugh as he shook his head in disbelief. "You hid the missing Stark girl right under their noses?"

"Indeed I did." Petyr shrugged as if it was no big deal. Roose chuckled lightly as he patted Petyr's shoulder.

"You surprise me, Baelish. I think we'll amount to a great alliance, you and I." Roose said knowingly.

"I do hope so." Petyr lied with a smile. "Now," he clapped both hands together. "If you've gotten everything you need from my lady wife this morning… would you please excuse us, for _ I _ still have some need of her before we break our fast."

Sansa couldn't help the frown that slid across her face from his crude comment.

Roose seemed to like it, however, for his eyes shifted her way and took in her messy look. Sansa felt stripped. "You heard him, Wolkan!" Roose smirked as he ushered the other man out the door.

Petyr closed it gently once both men were through, his shoulders relaxing knowing he wouldn't have to pretend any longer. He turned to her slowly, cautiously, and she met his eyes with a little reluctance. All the pain and embarrassment and anger from last night came rushing through her veins like the very blood that pumped through her.

He seemed to sense her shift, for he dropped his eyes and took a few steps closer, moving to slowly sit on the edge of the bed beside her.

He swallowed thickly, not able to meet her eyes. "How do you feel?" His voice was soft, much like it was last night. She could almost _ hear _ the pity.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she looked away. She thought about how best to answer him. _ Mad. Hurt. Scared. _

"Sore." She replied instead, shifting uncomfortably as she felt a dull ache between her legs where Petyr himself had stretched her to her limit last night.

When she looked back at him, she was almost surprised to find him looking at her this time. His grey eyes moved around her face, looking for something that she may be hiding from him.

He nodded, as if finally accepting that answer. "The maester found blood." She told him, wanting to know if such a thing was a normal occurrence.

Petyr's eyes flashed over to her own in alarm, but before he could get his question out, she answered him. "I told him I was at the end of my cycle this moon. That it was blood from that."

Petyr relaxed, a twitch of a smile threatening to spread across his face. "Smart girl. I didn't even think about blood."

She felt a little better under his praise, but then immediately hated herself for it. "Is that normal? Blood?" She asked, tucking her messy hair back nervously. She wished it wasn't Petyr she was talking to about this, but truth be told she really had no one else.

"Yes. Most women bleed their first time." He informed her, voice strained. He scratched awkwardly at the facial hair just beneath his chin as he averted his gaze.

They were quiet for a long, painful moment until Sansa let her protective mask slip slightly. "Sad." She added out of the blue. "I'm also really sad."

Petyr's eyes found hers and she found they held nothing but empathy and pity. There was no sick pleasure or amusement. No annoyance or frustration. He was sad too, she realized.

"I should have known Roose would've barged in here before dawn. I'm sorry I didn't warn you… have you dressed so you felt more comfortable." He said, but Sansa didn't want to hear anymore of it.

"You have much to apologize for, Lord Baelish… If I were you, I wouldn't start there." Her response was cold but truthful and he listened to every word, nodding in agreement when she finished.

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again, biting the inside of his cheek. "Jeyne will arrive in, I would say, around five or six hours. Until then, we'll need to find a way to get Theon alone so we can warn him and plead for his loyalty." He said instead, but not surprisingly.

"You mean _ I _do?" She corrected and this time he let the small, proud smile lift the corners of his mouth… but it was still a sad one.

"Yes, Sansa. He won't listen to me. You are the closest thing to family that he has. He grew up with you." Petyr explained, but it was unnecessary… she already understood why it had to be her.

"He will go along with it." She told him without a doubt.

Petyr cocked an eyebrow as he moved his hand close to hers, as if to grab it, but then remembered himself and let it rest just beside her leg. "How do you know this for certain? You've seen some of the things that Ramsay is capable of… and it seems to me that he's tortured and trained Theon into his own personal pet. Who's to say his loyalties haven't shifted?"

He had a fair point, but Sansa knew the truth. She also knew that Theon grew up under her mother lady Catelyn's care, and so he was familiar with the Tully words of _ Family, Duty, Honor. _

"He stood up for me at the stables. Stopped Ramsay from continuing to harm me. And he will be getting severely punished because of it. I trust him." She told Petyr, making both his eyebrows rise in surprise.

"He protected you?" He asked and she nodded. "Well… good. That's good. I'm glad you have faith in him."

"I do." She confirmed.

He nodded his head, moving to stand again. "I suppose… I shall see you later, my lady. For a very interesting evening, indeed."

She nodded her goodbye and watched him as he locked himself away in his solar. She knew he'd be in there for hours, so she took her sweet time bathing and readying for the day as she wondered how exactly to get Theon alone.

* * *

She had started her day off by looking in the stables, hoping maybe she would find her father’s old ward there, balled up in the hay like a caged animal. But she didn’t. The stables were completely empty. Aside from the horses, that is.

Sansa breathed a sigh, remembering how she felt the last time she had come here. How terrified she was of her soon-to-be husband. Now she only had her current husband she needed to fear. If Theon sided with her, that is. But Sansa knew she didn’t really have much to fear from Petyr. He may have been willing to hand her over to violent people, but he wasn’t actually violet himself. He would never physically hurt her; that was proven last time when he did everything in his power to consummate their marriage gently… thoughtfully. She was too mad to tell him this now, but she _ does _ appreciate that he was kind to her when it came to her first time.

Sansa shivered thinking about it: last night. Despite his effort to make it enjoyable for her, it wasn’t. It was horrific. Her emotional turmoil was bad enough, but to add a forced consummation on top of everything else? She was so _ angry _ with him. So upset. But mostly… She was so _ confused. _

Sansa tripped a little, kicking up a cloud of dirt as she scrambled to stabilize herself again. The chocolate-coloured horse to her right, lifted it’s head in alarm as it stomped both front hooves and whined. She calmed it with two hands held up in the air.

_ “Shh,” _ she stepped closer. “That’s it. See, I’m okay.”

She found her way over to that white stallion she had been admiring the last time, smiling as she got closer. “Hey, boy.” She unlocked the gate and stepped closer, stroking the horse between its ears.

“Girl, actually.”

Sansa jumped, gasping as she spun around to identify the culprit of the unknown voice. She frowned when she saw him: a young man wearing a beige shirt tucked into brown trousers, which were both soiled by dirty hand prints. He raised his hands up in surprise, showing that he was harmless, though he did hold a pitchfork in one of them.

“Apologies, m’lady. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He said sincerely, lowering his hands once again and offering a warm smile. He was quite handsome; rugged, and unwashed, but handsome none-the-less.

“No apologies needed, my lord.” She replied in kind, stepping aware from the mare. Now that she thought about it, the horse did seem feminine in it’s own way. Perhaps it was that beautiful white hair, or the dark kind eyes.

“Not a lord, m’lady. But thanks all the same.” He gave a little laugh, bowing his head slightly as he took a step closer to her. He used the pitchfork for balance as he got down on one knee and looked up at her. Sansa wondered what he was doing before he wiped his right hand off on his suddy trousers and then gently took her hand in his so he could place a dry kiss over her knuckles.

She was surprised by the gesture, but also… flattered? She felt a heat rise to her cheeks as she pulled her hand away and watched him stand in front of her. He really was handsome. He had long dark curly hair, much like Jon’s, though it held a coppery shade to it, which reminded her greatly of Robb. Her heart ached a little as she pictured both of their faces on this young man. He seemed to be around her age, if not a little older.

“I haven’t seen you here before. You’re the lady of the house, aren’t you?” He asked with a pleasant smile. She nodded and his smile widened. “I have heard of your beauty, but… I hadn’t imagined I would be quite so blown away.” He looked down bashfully then, which matched Sansa’s current expression as well. “Apologies again, m’lady. I speak out of turn.”

Sansa shook her head, though she was too caught up in the deep brown of his eyes to think of a coherent response. “You flatter me, uh…” She realized she hadn’t yet found out his name.

“Oh, my!” He exclaimed. “My manners have completely lost me, m’lady. Anton Estermont at your service.” He said with a curt nod of his head.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Anton. I’m Sansa.” She told him, enjoying the way his fingers seemed to tap nervously against the wrought iron pitchfork. It was refreshing to be the one making someone else nervous for a change; it made her feel powerful.

“A beautiful name to match a beautiful face. I must say on behalf of everyone here at Harrenhal, we are very pleased to have such a kindhearted woman to be the new lady of the house.” He told her.

“Why thank you.” She really meant it, too.

He stepped around her then, towards the mare she had previously been stroking. “Do you like to ride?” He asked her, his back turned her way. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms. “You are from house Stark, yes?”

Sansa felt a flash of pain as she stepped to the horse’s other side. Anton passed her a large brush with hundreds of prickly ends. She began to brush through the horse’s hair. “I am.” She said simply. He must have heard the pain in her voice, for she felt his eyes on her.

“I am sorry about your family.” He offered. She didn’t meet his eyes, just continued brushing until the moment passed. She didn’t need to be upset over her dead family today, too.

She got caught up in the whooshing sound of the brush gliding through the short hairs over the mare’s back. “I hardly ever rode as a girl. I didn’t like it, but now-” She paused, finally looking up at him again. “I may feel differently.”

He gave her a gentle smile; one that was lopsided and showed off half his top row of white teeth. “Would you like to ride her? She’s very sweet and gentle. I’ve named her Serenity, but if you think of something that you like better-”

“Oh, no! No, I like Serenity. Besides, she isn’t mine, so…”

“Every horse in this stable belongs to your lord husband, m’lady, which in turn makes them yours.” He informed her, placing his own brush down in a hanging bag attached to a high post.

Sansa considered this. Hers? All these horses… This land… The castle… It _ was _ technically all hers! She handed Anton her brush and then ran a hand down the horse’s back. _ Did _ she want to ride?

She looked up at him, rewarding him with a smile. “I would love to ride. Do you think you could get her saddled up for me?”

He nodded eagerly, happy to be able to do something for her. He asked her to step out of the way so she wouldn’t get kicked accidently if Serenity was startled. She watched as he took his time to saddle the horse as best he could. “I’m afraid this is the best saddle we have… Though it’s in no shape to be ridden by such a lady as yourself. I apologize that we do not have something of better quality here. Perhaps you could ask your lord husband to fashion you a proper one?”

Sansa didn’t want to think of her husband right now. She wanted to feel the wind on her face and in her hair. She wanted to feel free, if even just for a moment or two. “I’m sure it will do just fine, Anton, thank you.”

“My pleasure, m’lady.” He said, leading the mare out of the stables by the reins and then stopping to turn in her direction. “Would you like help up?”

Would she _ need _help up? Likely. Did she want it? No.

She looked up at the seat awaiting her and hesitantly placed one hand around the top of the horse as she placed her right foot in the hoop at the bottom. She pulled herself up, swinging her leg over with enough grace not to flash Anton along the way -though she was sure he wouldn’t mind much if she did accidentally. She adjusted her skirts as she settled, feeling proud of herself for mounting Serenity without any issues.

“How does she feel, m’lady?” Anton asked as he looked up at her, shielding the sun with his hand and squinting. She flashed him an excited grin and he returned it. “I wish you a lovely ride, lady Sansa. You know where to find me if you ever need my assistance again.”

She nodded. “Thank you again.”

She accepted the reins from him, the tanned skin of his hand touched hers briefly in passing. She only hesitated for a moment longer before she remembered her lessons growing up, and dug her heels into the mare’s sides. She sped forwards into a full-out gallop and Sansa found she couldn’t stop smiling.

The breeze was cool and it loosened the braid of her hair as it flapped side to side before coming undone entirely. She had forgotten what it felt like to have such a strong animal between her knees… forgotten the power it gave her.

A thought came to her then. She could leave. She could just keep riding and never stop. Not until she felt safe. She could go to Riverrun or the Vale… she had her mother's blood in both places. Surely they would protect her. But how would she possibly get there on her own? The chances of being caught and dragged back, or dragged to King's Landing which would be worse. Or possibly raped and killed. She didn't even know her way, nor was she prepared in the least. It would likely be a suicide mission.

She raced along the treeline before dipping in. The forest wasn’t so congested with trees that it made it difficult to ride… more like _ challenging. _ But she needed the trees to block out her view of the castle: the reminder that she wasn’t home in Winterfell.

She slowed Serenity after a while into a nice trott where Sansa was able to sit up and take in the beauty of the forest and all its many shades of green. Moss covered the entirety of the ground and the trunks of most trees, and large bits of pollen floated up through the air. There was less of a breeze in amongst the trees, but it was also shaded, so the sun didn’t feel too hot just yet.

Serenity slowed to a walk now, taking her time as she weaved through various trees, taking Sansa deeper into the forest. Sansa moved her hand over the horse’s mane, combing it with her fingers as they walked. “You are absolutely gorgeous, you know that?” She asked the mare while they came across a very thin river that seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. Serenity stepped into the rocky rapids without a problem or hesitation, and carried Sansa over to the other side.

Everything about this moment calmed Sansa: The sound of birds chirping, rushing water between rocks and hooves trotting over hard earth, kicking up dirt with every step. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting her other senses take the lead for a short time. She trusted Serenity not to walk them into trees or other such obstacles. She just needed a moment _ away. _ Away from all of this.

She was taken back to her childhood, a ripe age of seven. Her sister had her own pony and she rode just ahead of Sansa, trying to get her horse to go faster. Robb was riding up beside her father, little Bran in his lap. Her mother had stayed back to care for baby Rickon, which left Sansa to ride just beside Jon, whom she has never had much to talk about with.

Sansa had kept complaining about her sore muscles and hands, wishing they would finally turn back already so she could finish her stitching. The pony she rode was small and a light brown, it’s mouth faded to white.

Her father had broken off from the pack to collect a handful of reddish-purple berries before returning. He gave Sansa more than anyone else, offering a secret smile and a wink before riding ahead to share with the rest of his family. Sansa had smiled, plucking a berry and popping it into her mouth. It had been sweet and not at all bitter like they sometimes were. It melted on her tongue and she closed her eyes briefly to savor the taste.

When her eyes opened again, she was alone and a woman grown. The memory faded as the sadness seeped back in, hardening her bones and toughening her skin. Could she find happiness here with Petyr? Could she truly?

Putting aside everything that had happened since that one dinner with the Boltons… She had rather enjoyed Petyr’s company. Craved it, even. He challenged her in a way no one ever has… motivated her to see every part of herself, even the darker parts. He was the only person that she trusted and the only one she saw as a friend. God forbid, she had even started to love him. Him and his green eyes and half a smirk. His deep voice and gentle touch. The intensity of his eyes that always made heat rise to her cheeks. He made her feel beautiful in a way no one has ever been able to. Desired in a way she didn’t think was possible. And she had believed that he felt the same.

Perhaps she was wrong?

Or was she right, and that’s why he found a way around his deal with the Bolton’s?

There were too many unanswered questions that plagued her. Too many reasons and excuses that he might have had for doing what he did. Though there was no denying the pain in his eyes last night. The pain he felt at knowing what he had done: how he had hurt her and how he had given others the opportunity to do the same. The hurt that flashed in those viridescent eyes of his was unmistakable and it was too real to be faked. No, it was real, which made her think he cared, at least partly, for her well being.

Serenity whined, bringing Sansa’s attention back to the present. The redhead spotted a tree to the right with red fruit hanging from it. Apples, was it? She guided Serenity over to investigate further and upon further inspection, there were multiple wild apple trees surrounding her. She didn’t even know it was the season for it!

She reached up high, and with the added height of the horse, she was able to pick one, and then a second, third, forth. She smiled as she collected them with the skirt of her dress. She took a bite of one, enjoying the sweetness of it. She didn’t think she’d ever tasted one this sweet before. The last time she had tried one in King’s Landing, it had been quite bitter. A bit of juice dribbled down her chin and she used the back of her hand to wipe it away. It was a very unladylike action, but she was nowhere near a napkin, nor another soul that would even care.

Serenity whined again and Sansa let loose a small laugh, reaching into the pocket she made in her skirts and lifting one to the horse’s mouth. She kept her fingers flat and straight as the horse licked it from her palm, chewing it loudly. Once Sansa finished with the apple, she tossed the core onto the mossy forest floor and opened the satchel handing on the side of the saddle. She placed the two remaining apples gently inside, being sure not to bruise them, and then took the reins again.

“Okay girl, let’s go back now. There's still something I must do today.” Sansa patted the horse’s neck, giving her a long stroke as she slowly guided her to point in the right direction. She held on and leaned forwards as her heels dug in once more, sending Serenity full speed ahead.

She gave one of the apples to the stable boy, Anton, once she had dismounted and said her thanks once more. He was beyond honored by her gift and kissed her hand thrice more to show his gratitude.

Sansa had gone the long way back to her chambers, hoping to spot Theon along the way, but she didn’t. She knew that meant he must be wherever Ramsay was, which wouldn’t help Sansa with her task. Right now she needed to brush her hair through once more and braid it again, for the wind left it unpresentable.

The door to Petyr’s solar was open wide, and the sound of a quill scratching across parchment could be heard from the bedroom. She ignored the nervous twist in her stomach and placed the last apple on the vanity as she sat down on the red velvet cushion to tend to her hair.

She had almost made it out without having to see Petyr, but unfortunately she heard the scrape of a chair and then the dull thud of footsteps heading her way before she could finish the braid.

He didn't say anything to announce his presence, but their eyes met briefly in the mirror. He was leaning against the threshold of the door with his arms crossed as he watched her.

She tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the knotting of her hair, but that task was a nearly impossible one.

"Did you enjoy it?" He asked finally, breaking the silence. "Riding?"

Had he guessed that just by her need to redo her hair? She finished with the braid and turned in her seat to face him, tilting her head to the side in question.

"I could see you from my window." He explained, unfolding his arms and sighing as he crossed the room to stand before her.

She glanced into his solar, spotting the large window that offered a view of the gardens and, beyond that, the stables.

"I had worried that you wouldn't come back." He expressed to her, searching her face with unreadable eyes.

She shrugged, standing to meet his height. "I had half a mind to do just that." She admitted, catching the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

"Why didn't you?" He asked.

Her brow creased. "I wouldn't make it very far." She admitted, turning her back on him again to reach for the apple. "Besides, where would I go?"

He didn't answer her rhetorical question, just stared down questioningly at the red fruit in her hands as she turned back to face him again. She held it up to him and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I found an apple tree while I was out there. They're very good." She told him, not really sure herself why she was being kind. He didn't deserve it. Maybe it was her way of apologizing for last night, even though she felt she was the victim in last night's events.

He accepted the gift, being sure not to touch her as he grabbed it. "Thank you, Sansa." He breathed, meeting her eyes again as he raised the apple to his lips and took a generous bite. "Very good." He praised once he finished chewing. "Did you want to share?"

She shook her head. "I already had mine."

She rang her hands in front of her body, not quite knowing what to do now. "Have you gotten a chance to speak with Theon?" He asked quietly, glancing at their closed door.

Sansa shook her head. "I had gone to the stables looking for him, but he wasn't there. I fear he's with Ramsay."

Petyr nodded, unsurprised. "I shouldn't have hoped for a conversation with Theon today. Roose would have told his son to keep him close." He paused, taking another bite of the apple and stroking his goatee as he thought. Sansa left him to it without interrupting.

"Roose is a smart man. He knows that the only way he could prove that this girl is truly a Stark, is with your's and Theon's reactions. He's counting on his son's ability to break a man… he's counting on Theon's loyalty, so he'll make damn sure we can't speak with Theon in private before the girl arrives." Petyr continued, thinking aloud.

"So… where does that leave us?" Sansa asked, unsure of his solution to fix this.

He looked back up at her. "It leaves us hoping that Theon really is still alive. That he's still in there." Petyr sighed deeply, taking another big bite of the apple -it was nearly finished already. "It leaves us feeling very insecure."

"There's no way we could write him a note, or-"

"Too risky." He said before she could finish.

"But what if I was wrong and he _ doesn't _lie for us?" She asked him, feeling very worried now.

She wasn't scared about it before, thinking she would have time to warn Theon of what was to come and receive his verbal confirmation that he will be backing them up -backing _ her _ up. But now that she knew he would have to try and piece everything together himself _ and _lie to his captor on the spot… it was more than a little concerning.

"Then Roose will likely end my deal with him, as well as my alliance, and take you anyways." He told her. She felt _ sick _ at the realization that that really _ was _ a possible outcome tonight. And the consummation last night would have been for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankkss my girl @ omlgillen on Instagram for help with the new character's name (Anton Estermont). What do you guys think of him??
> 
> Also... I think it was important for Sansa to spend some time by herself in a calming place where she can really think things over and just have a nice break from it all.
> 
> What do you think will happen in the next chapter?😱


	13. The Risk - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's that chapter I promised!
> 
> ALSO:
> 
> I just joined Tumblr (whooo!): @/crimetokillamockingbird  
•  
I'm still learning the ropes there, but I just wanted to say here how nice it was to get such a warm welcome from @/imawholesnacc @/petyrbaaaeeelish and @/inabetterworld - Your guys' support is what makes this fandom such a lovely community to be a part of 💗 So thankyou.

Sansa spent the rest of the day trying to get Theon alone without the Bolton's noticing, but it was no use. Ramsay had clearly ordered Theon to stay beside him for the entire day, because anywhere Ramsay went… Theon was hot on his tail.

By the time a carriage arrived, Sansa's anxiety levels were already through the roof. This was the last piece of the puzzle that needed to fit. The last piece that determined whether Sansa would stay or go. The last piece that, even if Sansa did get her way, an innocent girl would suffer in her place. The guilt she felt because of that was overwhelming, so much so that she felt sick to her stomach.

Petyr was standing at her side, her arm linked through his for appearances. The Bolton's were to her right, Theon on his knees beside Ramsay. Sansa kept trying to catch his gaze, but he refused to look her way.

Her fingernails were digging into Petyr's arm nervously as someone walked around the carriage and unlocked the door, opening it.

Sansa felt her breath leave her when she caught sight of her old friend's face. She was wearing a long charcoal dress adorned with feathers over the shoulders and her long chocolate hair was half-way pinned up.

She didn't look hurt in any way, which made Sansa sigh in relief. That meant that if Petyr had kept her somewhere, he had treated her well enough. She was slim, but not sickly and her pale cheeks held quite a lot of reddened colour.

She wore a small smile, which seemed to broaden when her eyes fell upon Sansa's person.

"Go." Petyr breathed quietly next to her, and Sansa let go of him, moving quickly towards her fake sister.

They embraced tightly and Sansa's eyes fell shut, feeling them well with tears. _ How could she do this? _

_ "I'm so sorry, Jeyne." _ She whispered into the other girl's ear. Jeyne's hand moved up to the back of Sansa's neck and she stroked her braided hair gently.

_ "I'm doing this for my father. Don't be sorry. He'll live because of me." _ She whispered back before pulling away. Sansa's eyes held despair, but she smiled to keep up the show.

"I missed you so much!" She exclaimed, sniffling as she wiped at her _ very real _ tears.

"I thought I was never going to see you again!" She replied as she helped her _ older sister _ clean the tears from her face.

Jeyne pulled her into another hug, then. And Sansa was thankful, for she knew this was the only time she would likely get with her before she left.

_ "Jeyne, he's awful." _She warned, feeling the need to make sure she knew the truth.

_ "I know. Father has sent me raven's about him." _ Was her reply.

_ "You must do as he says, or he'll hurt you. It's easier that way, trust me." _ Sansa whispered back.

_ "I'm tougher since we last spoke, Sansa." _She informed her as she pulled away. "You've grown up since I saw you last." She said louder so the other's could hear.

"As have you!" Sansa exclaimed in return, backing up and taking both of her hands so she could get a good look at her. "I can't believe they got you in a dress!"

Both girls laughed and Jeyne shrugged. "I've changed, Sans."

_ Sans. _ It was her old nickname.

Sansa felt another wave of emotion come over her but she fought it down. "Have you heard from Jon?" Sansa asked, thinking that if she truly was Arya, that would be a question she would ask. She shook her head sadly and looked down. "Well, I'm sure he's fine. He would still be at castle black. Safe."

Jeyne chose not to answer, probably not knowing much about their half-brother's whereabouts and not wanting to say the wrong thing.

"So…" Jeyne started, leaning close to Sansa while finally turning to look at the other men. "Which one is mine?" She asked with an excited smile, acting as if she was asking Sansa something secret.

Ramsay seemed to guess what she had said, for his back straightened as his chest puffed out and a slow smirk grew across his face. Surely Jeyne would make him happy. She was very pretty.

Sansa led her friend over to the Bolton's, catching Theon's eye for the first time, though it was fleeting.

"Roose Bolton." Sansa bowed her head in greeting and the man returned the gesture. "Ramsay Bolton. This is my sister Arya Stark."

Jeyne bowed low, something Arya would never do, but no one here except her and Theon would know such a thing. "It's a pleasure, my lords."

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady Stark." Ramsay replied pleasantly as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

Sansa chanced a glance at Theon again. Luckily he was watching her from the corner of his eyes, his head facing a different direction. Roose was standing right in front of her, so she couldn't risk trying to mouth something his way, though if she did, it would have been '_ please'. _ Instead she just settled on begging him with her eyes.

Soon he dropped his eyes altogether and she was left hoping he understood. Hoping he had some loyalty for her family left in him. Though she wouldn't blame him if he didn't. Ramsay seemed to know exactly how to break people.

When Ramsay straightened once again, Roose stepped forward to offer a bow in greeting. "Lady Stark." He said curtly. "If you don't mind me asking… What makes you agree to this marriage?"

Sansa held her breath, nervous for Jeyne's response. Though there seemed to be no reason for her nerves, because Jeyne only smiled politely in return.

"Well, my lord, I had been in hiding for so many years… when lord Baelish sent me the raven last night asking if I would be interested in marrying the young and handsome lord of Winterfell… It seemed like the best option I could ever hope for. Not only can I be myself again, but I'll be home." Was her easy response, though Sansa could tell it was a rehearsed one. She just prayed that Roose couldn't.

Though he seemed to accept her response, for he nodded respectfully and stepped back. "You haven't even said hello to this one, yet, my lady." Ramsay said, seemingly catching Jeyne off guard. He gestured to the man on his knees next to them. "Reek, stand up and greet your old foster sister."

"Theon." Jeyne breathed, very believing. Sansa was surprised by her quick thinking. "I didn't even recognize you… What happened?"

Theon ignored Jeyne, his head drooping down to look at his feet. Ramsay chuckled darkly. "He destroyed Winterfell, leaving us to rebuild it. He chased your younger brothers from the grounds before killing them and hanging their corpses up at the gates."

Jeyne gasped, covering her mouth as she stared at Theon in horror. "This is his punishment, my lady. I hope you approve. He shall be serving you from now on." Ramsay added with a sneer in his voice.

Jeyne took a moment to consider herself. "I had hoped… Bran and Rickon… I had hoped they were alive somewhere…" She said it quietly, almost to herself alone, and Sansa wanted to congratulate her on how real it all sounded.

Sansa instead, placed a hand firmly on her back as a comforting gesture, also feeling the pain of knowing Bran and Rickon were dead. "Well…" She swallowed down her pain for now, facing Ramsay with her chin held high as she wiped at her unshed tears. "I most certainly do approve of your treatment towards this piece of filth." Was her reply, which made Ramsay smirk.

Perhaps Jeyne _ was _strong enough to survive him, after all.

"Reek?" Ramsay questioned. "Don't you have something to say to your other sister?"

_ And this was it._

_The moment of truth. _

Theon's eyes rose slowly, sweeping over Jeyne's form. Sansa could see conflict in his eyes. She silently prayed.

_Please give us this loyal act of bravery, Theon, please._

_Do this and I'm free of him._

Theon's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I-I'm sorry, Arya. I'm sorry."

The relief that washed through her was like nothing she had ever felt before.

Jeyne looked away, acting disgusted. "Well." She cleared her throat. "Enough of this unpleasantness. Will we be eating before we set off?" She asked.

Dinner was a nerve-wracking event to say the least. Sansa was constantly worried about saying or doing something wrong, that she hardly had an appetite to eat. But she forced herself to, knowing it would look bad if she didn't.

Jeyne however, seemed completely in her element. Which, Sansa figured, would be accurate if the real Arya was in her place. Arya would not settle for being a victim. She would play it up and she would make Ramsay _ hers. _ Or she would kill him. Either way.

Jeyne laughed and flirted, all while acting as the loving sister who'd been separated from her family for so many years.

"I was worried when I first heard about your engagement, Sans." She admitted, and something about it sounded real. As if she were speaking as herself this time. "But then I heard quite a bit of gossip about you two…" She said with a smirk. Sansa glanced Petyr's way, wishing she didn't have to act like a doey-eyed girl in love.

Sansa smiled back at her. "Yes… Well," she shrugged as she picked up her cup of wine. "I got lucky, I suppose." She lied through her teeth.

Jeyne swallowed the food in her mouth and grinned. "We both found ourselves handsome men, it would seem." Ramsay smirked, placing his hand on -if Sansa were to guess- Jeyne's knee. "Do you remember as girls how we used to imagine what our future would look like?" She asked excitedly, giggling.

Her and _ Jeyne _ used to do that often. Arya and Sansa never got along when they were young, but again, only Theon would know that here so they could really say whatever they wanted now.

"Of course." Sansa smiled in return.

Jeyne laughed as she drank back the rest of her wine. _ Slow down, _Sansa thought, not wanting her lips to loosen too much and give them away. Petyr seemed to think the same thing, for he refused another bottle of wine when a servant brought it to the table.

"You would marry a tall blond knight, brave and strong. The two of you would make an army of beautiful children." Jeyne looked Petyr's way. "Instead you snagged a wealthy lord with dark hair and miles of land."

It wasn't a slight against Petyr by any means, quite the opposite actually, and Petyr chuckled beside her. “Certainly not a knight.”

“Sansa grew up and found a different dream.” Jeyne thought aloud. It was meant to sound sweet but it only made Sansa sad. _ Her dream wasn’t Petyr, it was to be home and safe with the little family she had left. _

Still, Sansa felt like that was her cue, and so she sent a sweet smile Petyr’s way and lifted her hand to run it affectionately over the stubble lining his jaw. She had a small urge to slap him. He seemed to notice this, for he lifted an amused eyebrow as he looked at her, the action hidden from anyone else’s view. She removed her hand, before she actually _ did _ hit him, and took another drink of her wine to finish it off.

“I _ am _ still hoping for an army of children, though.” Sansa lied easily. Well, in all honesty, it wasn’t a lie. She would love to have kids: a family of her very own. But with Petyr?

Her comment seemed to please both him and Jeyne, however, for the burnette across from her let out a boisterous laugh. “You better start working on that, lord Petyr.” She joked, but Petyr didn’t laugh. Instead he drank from his wine as he tried to hide his sour expression.

She knew he was thinking about what had happened last night.

“And what, pray tell, did you dream about as a girl, lady Arya?” Ramsay asked, speaking up for the first time since they all sat down to eat. He had used his time to quietly analyze Jeyne, though it seemed he had finally decided that he liked what he was seeing.

Fake-Arya giggled as she blushed. “A strong handsome husband, of course.” She paused, glancing Sansa’s direction. “One that could _ keep up _ with my energetic personality.”

Sansa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She knew how to _ play. _

Sansa wished she knew how to play Petyr the same way, but he was far more difficult to read and understand. And either way… Sansa wasn’t sure she had it in her to pretend to be a completely different person.

When dinner finished and the carriages and horses were stocked, Sansa found herself saying goodbye to the old friend she had only just gotten back. She hugged her tightly, her hand cradling Jeyne’s head as she felt the emotion peaking inside her.

_ “We will be taking Winterfell back as soon as we can to free you from this.” _Sansa promised as they pulled away. The others were busy readying themselves and saying their goodbyes that Sansa and Jeyne had a short moment to speak freely to one another.

She smiled sadly. “It was good to see you again.” She said as she placed a hand on both of Sansa’s shoulders. “If you promise me that you’ll take care of yourself… That you’ll survive all this... Then I’ll promise to do the same.” She looked down at the firefly necklace hanging around Sansa’s neck. She fingered the silver charm for a moment.

“Just promise me that we’ll see eachother again. Perhaps the Bolton’s will let you write to me.” Sansa suggested, knowing that was unlikely.

“We _ will _ see each other again.” She vowed, pulling her into one last bone-crushing embrace. _ “And I’ll take care of Winterfell in your absence.” _

Sansa stayed outside until well past dusk, watching the last of the horses and carriages disappear from view, the Bolton banners flapping endlessly in the wind.

She had wished to say a goodbye to Theon… To thank him for helping her, but she never got the chance. Ramsay had given her cheek a wet kiss in farewell, whispering a promise to break in her darling little sister the second their vows are said beneath the ancient Weirwood tree. Sansa had tensed and glared in reply, biting her tongue in an attempt to tame the fire burning and swirling inside her. Jeyne will survive this. She will.

Sansa’s arms pricked with goosebumps as the wind chilled. “You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here much longer, my lady.”

Sansa didn’t turn at the sound of his voice, just stared off in the distance as the stars began to appear in the night sky. The moon was shaped like a fingernail this evening, providing little light to brighten the darkness Sansa felt eating away inside of her.

“It would be welcome.” She replied, closing her eyes as she felt his presence beside her. He was warm; she could feel the heat radiating off of him, and it was welcoming. Though she fought her body’s urges and kept her distance.

“So is that it, then?” He asked gently, sounding more curious than angry. “You would prefer a lonely death than to be in my company?”

She wanted to roll her eyes but she refrained. “Sometimes.” Was her honest response.

He chuckled lightly, offering his arm. She thought about not accepting it, but decided against refusing him, for she wasn’t in the mood to argue. He led her back inside and up to their chambers, closing the door softly. She was so _ tired. _

Petyr lit the candles around their room, creating enough light for Sansa to see the bottle of dark wine and two crystal glasses set up on their nightstand. She walked over to it with some reluctance. Had _ he _set this up? She wanted to laugh.

“What’s this?” She asked, picking up the heavy bottle and examining it before looking up and over at Petyr. His hands were clasped in front of his body as he watched her.

“I thought it might be nice to celebrate.”

Her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. “Celebrate _ what, _ exactly?” She snapped. “The suffering of a young innocent girl?”

Petyr sighed long and heavy as his hands fell at his sides. “At least it isn’t _ you, _ Sansa. Or gods forbid, your actual sister!”

She huffed, slamming the bottle back where she found it. “What?” She fired back. “Are you looking for _ gratitude? _ A _ thank you _?”

“No, but it would be nice if you realized that whether you like it or not, I am your husband. And you’re stuck with me.” He opened his mouth to continue but she cut him off with a snarky, _ “not” _ to answer his first comment. He clenched his jaw as he tried to restrain his anger.

“You could do worse, Sansa. I think the _ Bolton’s _ have at least made you see _ that _.”

“I’m not celebrating the pain of my friend!” She shot back, knowing she couldn’t make a comment to his last remark, seeing as he was right.

“Fine!” He shouted, raising his hands in surrender.

There was an awkward moment of silence between them as they stared each other down heatedly. Petyr was the first to break eye contact. He sighed deeply, his eyes closing for a brief moment.

“You know… Most women wouldn't dare speak to their husbands the way you speak to me.” He pointed out, and by the tone in his voice, she could tell he was testing her: challenging her.

She crossed her arms defiantly. “So now you want me to fear you? Fear what… that you’ll strike me?”

He laughed, but it was a dry one. “I’m just saying, Sansa. I _ could _ hit you. Beat you. Rape you... If I wanted to."

"You _did_ rape me!" She yelled out, knowing that wasn't entirely truthful _or_ fair, but too worked up to care.

_"Rape_ you?" He repeated.

He stepped closer as his voice lowered. "If I _raped_ you, I was the most thoughtful and considerate rapist in Westeros!" He said heatedly. He _had_ been unbearably kind during it. "You know it was forced on me just as much as it was on you."

She frowned, not having a response to that. "Instead of physically harming you, I’m trying to talk to you. Spend time with you." He pointed out, referring back to what he was originally saying: that she could do a lot worse than him.

“Why?” She asked, feeling bitter. “I’m never going to love you!"

Something about that seemed to take him aback, for she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. His gaze dropped to the floor and he drew his bottom lip into his mouth and contemplated what to do next. Perhaps he _ would _hit her.

But he didn’t. He met her eyes again, but this time his mask was up and the grey of his eyes made her feel cold: empty.

“Enjoy the wine, Sansa. It was expensive.” And then he crossed the room and left through the door to his solar, closing it behind him.

Had she finally hurt him? Finally made him feel a fraction of what she’s been feeling this whole time? She didn’t feel triumphant from her accomplishment, however… Instead, she felt even more sad. Even more alone.

She _ did _drink that night. And far more than her body could handle, too. The bottle was mostly gone an hour later and she found herself hunched on the floor, cheek pressed against the carpet as their bedroom spun violently. She wasn’t sure why she did it. She’d never had more than a second glass during meals, but she discovered that the more she drank, the more numb she felt… And it seemed like such an attractive feeling compared to the alternative.

Her nausea only increased as the night went on and she slowly started to become frightened. How bad would this get? She was already seeing double and the world was already spinning around her head.

"Sansa!"

Her eyes blinked open. Boots. She saw black boots in front of her, and then -oh!- knees and… Petyr. A second Petyr. A third Petyr. Then they combined to one Petyr again. His concerned eyes stared straight back into hers.

She watched as he surveyed the room, picked up the mostly empty wine bottle, shook his head and then clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Sansa, why?" He asked, a hand bracing her shoulder. She wanted to smack it away, but she couldn't summon the strength. Besides, she was worried she wouldn't have the coordination to actually hit him where she wanted to and she didn't want to embarrass herself even more.

"Head hurts." She mumbled, closing her eyes and groaning.

"I don't doubt it." He replied, a considerable amount of amusement lacing his voice. "Well, come on then. Let's get you to bed."

She groaned, shaking her head. "I can't get up." She whined, pressing her cheek harder against the carpet. She reached a hand out to play with the golden tassels laying flat against the stone floor. "I messed up."

"Yes, you did." He scolded gently. Did she catch a hint of a smile? "Either way, I'm not leaving you on the floor."

She felt his arms loop under her shoulders and then pull her up. She tried to stand, but her legs felt too wobbly.

He grunted, not expecting her dead weight. She clutched at his shoulders, falling helplessly against his chest. Part of her hated relying on him, but another part was tired of fighting.

He guided her to the bed and sat her down on the edge of it. He bent down to remove her shoes, but as he did she slumped forwards and almost toppled right over him, but he caught her in time. Shoes removed, he worked on the laces of her dress and she lazily fought him the entire time.

"I'll leave your shift on, Sansa. But you can't sleep in this dress." He told her with an annoyed tone of voice as he finished loosening the laces and began pulling it from her uncooperative body. "Sansa _ enough!" _ He barked, finally getting her attention.

He flung the dress to the floor and held her face with both his hands. "I'm not going to touch you. I'm trying to help you." His voice was stern and she didn't dare argue.

Instead she nodded, her eyelids heavy. She slumped against the pillow and found sleep almost instantly. He must have woken her up from time to time, for she remembered drinking quite a bit of water through the night.

She also remembered the warmth of his arms beneath the sheets, but she wasn't sure if she had been the one to initiate it, or him. She wasn't sure whether to be angry or embarrassed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at Jeyne! Playing the part! I guess she realized that with a man like that, you either be the victim and suffer the pain, or you match his desire and violent personality. What a trooper.
> 
> Thoughts, you lovely people?


	14. Some Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shoutout to @ annagal95 for making this story it's very own teaser trailer!
> 
> Watch both part 1 and 2 using these links:  
1\. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xq-vOE6dag0  
2\. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dU0s_5UmaE

Groggy, Sansa forced her eyelids to open.

She felt awful.

The first thing she wanted to do was clean her teeth. Or did she want some water first? Or a meal? She groaned as she sat up, brushing her fingers through her tangled hair.

_ Why did she do that!? _

Petyr wasn't beside her, but she knew he stayed with her last night; she could remember him being there… _ holding _ her. She wanted to be mad but she couldn't bring herself to be. She wanted to blame his kindness on his greed to take advantage of her, but that wasn't what happened. He was _ taking care of her. _

Her stomach was twisted, feeling guilty for last night. The door then pushed open and her head shot up to find Petyr walking in. He was carrying a tray in both hands and he wore a sheepish smile when the green of his eyes connected with the blue of her's.

She was surprised by the shy look he gave her as he gently closed the door and stepped closer. "Good morning."

She looked down, breaking eye contact as he moved to sit beside her on the bed, placing the tray near her feet where the sheets weren't jumbled up and twisted. Her stomach growled at the sight before her: biscuits with butter, cheese, a bowl of raspberries, a honey cake and a large cup of water.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, perched on the very edge of the bed.

She met his eyes again, blushing. "Embarrassed." She admitted quietly, shrugging. He chuckled lightly as he nodded.

"You shouldn't be." He told her, then gestured to the food. "I thought you'd be hungry, but you slept past breakfast so I decided to bring some up."

She felt the blush stretch from her chest to her cheeks. "You didn't have to do that." _ Why was he being so incredibly sweet?_

He shrugged and pursed his lips as he watched her reach for a biscuit and take a generous bite, and then a long drink of water, which slid like silk down her dry throat. "Did you… sleep in the bed last night?" She asked, meeting his eyes again.

His expression faltered for a second before he corrected it. "No. I _ laid _ awake in the bed as I watched over you." Sansa looked down immediately, ashamed for even bringing it up. "I was scared you would choke on your own vomit."

"Sorry." She mumbled, forgetting her manners entirely.

He didn't answer, only moved more onto the bed so he was properly sitting beside her with his back against the wooden headboard. "I'd like to talk." He said aloud, catching her off guard.

"About what?"

"Anything that you want." He said, her eyes meeting his. "I just want to talk to you… like we used to."

She huffed. "That's long gone, Petyr."

He frowned, chewing his bottom lip. "I-" He cleared his throat, finding her gaze again. "I know that I have a lot to make up for, sweetling." He reached towards her to take her hand, but she moved it away. He huffed impatiently. "Is this what you want?" He asked. "To have a relationship like _this_ for the rest of our lives?"

"You're the one that ruined it, Petyr!" She snapped. "I -_Gods- _I _loved _you!"

He was very quiet, processing her confession infuriatingly slow. He licked his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She had shocked herself with her outburst, not even knowing herself that she loved him.

"You love me?" He asked simply and she felt like screaming, ripping her hair out... anything to break the tension between them.

"I _did_." She corrected. "But then I realized I didn't even _know_ you."

She knew her words were hurting him, but she didn't care. She just found out that she loved him. Did she still? Can you truly love someone if you don't know them? Can you love someone who's bad for you?

Only one question stood out in her mind: _Did he love her?_

One thing she knew forsure was that, if they did love each other, it was the most toxic form of live imaginable.

"You know me better than anyone."

It was said quietly, like he was telling her a secret: baring his soul. Did she? How could that be true? No, it was a lie, like everything else that comes out of his mouth.

"If that's true, Petyr, that's very sad. Because no, I don't know you." She countered. It couldn't be love.

His brow creased as he watched her, but he didn't respond. Obviously, she didn't want to have such a rocky relationship for the rest of her life, but what was she to do about it?

As if reading her mind, he said: "You have to open your mind… and your heart, to forgiveness. Or we'll never be able to move forward."

"How am I supposed to do that?" She asked quietly, genuinely wondering how her and Petyr could get to a good place again.

He sighed, offering his hand once more. "It's on me to fix this, Sansa. All I ask is that you let me."

She wasn't really sure what that was supposed to mean, but it sounded genuine. She hesitated a moment longer before placing her hand in his. He gave her a flicker of a smile before his fingers closed around her's.

"I was thinking... if you want to… we could go riding together once you've finished eating?" He told her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "I have quite a bit of time today, which I'd love to spend with you."

"Riding?" She questioned, surprised by his invitation.

"Yes. I found this beautiful spot beside the lake. Secluded and peaceful. We could have lunch there." He suggested then, making her smile a little. "What do you say, Sansa? Will you accompany me?"

She blushed again, biting back a smile. "I would love to." And she really would.

He smiled sincerely over at her, bringing her hand to his lips and leaving a soft kiss there, the action stirring a flutter in her belly. It had been too long since she last saw him smile. Too long since she let herself enjoy it.

If he wanted to make things better between them… If he wanted to properly apologize, she would let him. She would welcome it, even.

* * *

“What’s her name?” Petyr asked as Sansa greeted the milky white horse with a stroke along her back.

“Serenity.” She told him as he prepared the saddles. He placed the same saddle she had used yesterday onto the horse and strapped it up.

“She’s yours then. Only yours to ride.” He said with a little smile as he leant against the mare. Sansa felt her face brighten.

"Petyr... I was wondering..." She started, remembering what the stable boy had told her yesterday. She eyes the old and tattered saddle.

"Yes?" He urged.

"Do you think maybe we could get new saddles? Our own brand new ones? I've never had my own before." She asked, hoping it wasn't too much, but also knowing deep inside that he would buy her anything she wished.

He grinned. "Of course, sweetling. I'll send a raven tonight to have them fashioned with the finest leather gold can buy."

“Lady Sansa!”

Both Petyr and Sansa spun around to find the source of the voice. Sansa smiled at the sight of the stable boy standing a few paces away.

“Anton! How are you this morning?” She asked, ignoring the questioning look that Petyr shot her.

“Well, my lady, thank you.” He said as he stepped closer. His eyes moved over to Petyr before bowing his head. “My lord.” He greeted.

Petyr returned the gesture but didn’t speak. “Lovely day for a ride.” He said happily as he looked Sansa’s way again. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves. Do you need help saddling the horses?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.” Petyr replied gruffly, making Anton look down at his feet and then nodding his goodbye and taking his leave.

“What was that?” Sansa demanded, not liking how he treated the only friend she's made here.

“You know him?” He asked instead, looking bothered.

“I met him yesterday. Is there something wrong with that?” She asked.

“I just didn’t like how he looked at you.” He admitted with a shrug. She chose not to respond, not needing another argument now, especially over something so small.

Petyr rode a dark brown horse that stood across from her own in the stables. It was also a female, and her name was Mona. As they rode together, Sansa couldn’t help but notice how attractive he looked upon horseback; it was a new sight for her. They raced each other across open fields and then slowed considerably when they crossed the treeline. Petyr strapped a wicker basket tightly to the side of the horse and a large rolled up blanket just behind the saddle.

It was a warm, sunny morning with little to no wind, making the air feel sticky and sometimes suffocating. Sansa could feel the thin cotton of her shift sticking to her skin as she rode, urging Serenity to move faster so she could pass Petyr. He flashed her a happy smile as she rode up beside him, shooting a cheeky wink before calling out an order and nudging the horse hard with his heels. He was faster than her on horseback, she realized.

Sansa was laughing by the time they slowed down again, nearing the edge of the large lake. “You’ve been relaxing along a shaded section of this lake, which is a shame really, considering what it is known for.” Petyr said suddenly as he steered his horse around some large boulders and then led her into a thicker area of foliage.

She followed him without question, waiting to hear what he was saying. “It’s called the God’s Eye, did you know that?” He asked as they stopped at a short cliff. He dismounted his horse and tied her to a try before stepping over to Sansa and Serenity. Sansa accepted his help dismounting her own mare, for she was too distracted by the beauty of the lake before her. The water was a pretty blue-green colour like she remembered it being, though what caught her attention were millions of glimmering ripples that broke up the still water.

“The water is said to shimmer in the sunlight.” He breathed in her ear from behind once her feet were placed on the grassy ground.

Sansa had spent enough time in King’s Landing watching over the ships to know that water often flickers and shines when it catches the light of the sun, but this was different. The way it sparkled -twinkled- was almost magical. It was a gorgeous view.

“It’s the largest freshwater lake in Westeros. And you see that island there?” He asked as he walked around her body to stand beside her. He pointed towards a small platform of green land that was way too far to ever swim to. “It’s called the Isle of Faces and that’s where the pact between the First Men and the Children of the Forest was made. Legend says, at least.”

Sansa appreciated this bit of knowledge, as she has been reading his collections of myths and legends since she arrived to Harrenhal. She offered him a smile before stepping closer to the edge and looking down. It wasn’t far, maybe a ten foot drop at most.

When she turned back around she saw that Petyr had spread the dark green blanket out in a small shaded section and was in the middle detached the basket of food from the horse’s side. She moved over to the blanket and adjusted her dress before sitting down with her knees bent so that her legs folded to the side politely. The basket was placed in front of them and he began pulling out it’s contents as Sansa took in the scenery around them.

“It’s truly beautiful here, Petyr.” She told him, looking back as he uncorked a tall and skinny bottle. “Oh, Petyr… I appreciate it, but-” She blushed from embarrassment. “I’ve had my share of wine for at least a few moons.”

He wasn’t offended by her comment. Instead, he chuckled lightly. “It’s apple cider, my love.”

Her heart skipped a beat. _ My love. _ Had he meant to say that?

“It does contain some alcohol, yes, but it’s very sweet. I promise you’ll like it.” He told her as he poured two glasses and then offered her one.

She took it with some reluctance, not wanting to upset her stomach with more alcohol, and took a tentative sip. The taste surprised her; it’s sweetness covered the dull taste of alcohol and it left a pleasant tingle in her mouth. “It _ is _good!” She exclaimed and he nodded as he took a drink of his own serving.

"And yes, Harrenhal certainly has it's charms." He agreed. "It's a good thing, too... makes up for the ghosts." He teased with raised eyebrows.

Flashbacks of Nan's old stories came back to her then and she subconsciously shivered, then laughed it off like it was nothing. "You don't really believe in that, do you?"

Petyr shrugged. "Stranger tales proved true."

Sansa thought on his response for a long while.

The next item he pulled out was a large selection of fruits and then a small tray of cinnamon dusted pastries, which tasted exquisite when paired with the cider. They made comfortable conversation as they ate, and Sansa found herself easily -almost too easily- slipping back into her old mindset when it came to her husband: adoring him and always looking to impress him. She really should keep a wall up.

So she did. He tried to touch her many times during their picnic: her hand, the small of her back, her hair…, but she always brushed him off to let him know that it would take more than a romantic day to get back into her good graces. But until he made it there again, if he did make it there at all, she was willing to talk and smile and _ try. _

“Sansa…” Petyr started after the food and cider had long vanished. His tone was cautious… Almost nervous. “Forgive me for ruining the moment, but… I would like to talk about the other night, if you’re willing.”

Sansa’s brow creased. The other night? Their consummation?

When she didn’t reply for a long moment, he continued. “I just… I would hate to think that you look at me as-” He stopped himself from finishing, but Sansa could guess what he was going to say. “That night was an exception, but I would never force you to do that. Ever.”

She looked down, feeling a sickness grow in her stomach just thinking about it again. Pain and fear ate away at her as she stayed quiet.

“Think what you want about me, sweetling. A liar, a monster even, but I’m not a rapist.” He added gently. He moved his hand towards her in an attempt to bring her face back up to his, but she flinched away before he could. Blue met green and he dropped his shoulders slightly, looking defeated.

“I’ll never touch you again. Not unless you want me to. Not unless you ask me to.” He promised with that intense gaze of his.

She swallowed thickly, feeling tears sting at her eyes. Could she ever truly forgive him for all he’s done and move forward? How could she when he’s still keeping things from her about her own sister!? She sighed, nodding her head.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that, Petyr. I do know that.” She admitted, letting go of a little of her pride to make him feel a bit better. They were having such a nice day… She didn’t want to ruin it with tears or more arguments. They have had enough of those for a lifetime already. She just wanted some happiness. _Some peace._

“Oh, sweetling…” He breathed as he watched her fight back stray tears. “Come here.” He said gently, motioning with his hand for her to come closer. She hesitated, not wanting to give him too much of herself so soon, but he gave her a desperate look and she caved.

She closed the gap between them and found purchase in his arms. He pulled her tightly against his chest and stroked her hair with a tender touch. Sansa felt every muscle in her body relax, as if what she needed this whole time was his comfort to sooth away the pain he had caused. It aggravated her that that was the case; that she couldn’t feel better on her own… _ That she needed him. _ But she did. And it was proven when he left a meaningful kiss to her temple and she felt her heart melt to putty in his hands. It was frustrating and confusing and almost pathetic. She didn’t want to rely on him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into her hair, and it sounded so real. Real enough for her to want to forgive him, just like that.

Instead she pulled away and dried her eyes. The deep breath she took next was shaky and causing more water to flood her eyes but she was thankfully able to blink them away again. She wasn’t sure what Petyr was feeling then, because she couldn’t find it in herself to look at him. When she finally did, he looked almost completely composed again, as if their conversation and embrace had meant nothing, but she knew that it had really meant _ everything. _

“It’s a beautiful day.” She forced herself to change the topic before she lost it entirely. “Really hot, though.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Let’s cool down then.”

She tilted her head to the side as she watched him stand and offer her his hand. She accepted it, letting go as soon as she was standing again. He offered a mischievous smile. “Let’s go for a swim!”

Her eyes bulged. “Are you kidding?” She blurted out, but he only shrugged as he started working on undressing himself. She watched him with apprehension. “Petyr!” She scolded. “We’re outside! I can’t just disrobe.”

He chuckled. “No one can see us here, sweetling.” He pointed out, gesturing with open arms to the foliage and rocks blocking them completely from anyone’s view. He shrugged off his outer layers, so his torso was bare. He started working on the laces of his breeches when she finally looked away.

A moment later she heard a splash, so she spun around to find his breeches tossed on the ground and her husband submerged in water from the shoulders down. He pushed back his wet hair and sighed dramatically. “It feels amazing, Sansa.” He exaggerated as he treaded water.

She bit down on her bottom lip as she considered joining him. _ Don’t give him so much of yourself. Don’t fall in his trap again. Keep your walls up high. _“Close your eyes.” She told him, earning a cocked eyebrow.

“Sweetling I’ve already seen every part of you.” He teased, making her blush. She gave him a stern look in reply, which made him shake his head in amusement before turning around to give her privacy.

She unlaced her dress as quickly as she could before letting it drop and pool at her ankles. She kicked off her shoes next, but left her shift and underthings on, before jumping into the cool water. _ This was heaven _, she thought as she submerged to the water’s surface. A refreshing sensation rolled down her spine in waves.

Soon she forgot about her pain and her anger, and all she felt was the pleasantness of the moment;

Cold water washing away the past, like magic.

She felt clean. Light. Happy.

“Good?” Petyr asked with a smile. She nodded as she started kicking her legs to stay above water.

Later, as they bathed in the sun’s heat to dry their wet clothes and skin, and Sansa’s now-darkened auburn hair framed her face in wet curly strands, Petyr called her name to get her attention.

His eyes sought her’s.

He smiled. 

“You look beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this ONE chapter of fluff and healing and important conversations and vulnerability, because it's about to get crazy again.


	15. Petrifying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to get back into my other fics but I'm too addicted to writing this one.
> 
> Enjoy :)

The weeks went by the same. At times Sansa felt like their relationship was improving, strengthening, but then at other times she felt the distance between them. Her own boundaries certainly kept him at arm's reach, but to Sansa it felt like his walls were what was keeping them apart. He was still keeping secrets and still hiding things. She could feel it every time they were together… That he was still being that same mysterious, dangerous man.

The days were always like that: always the same. But the nights were theirs. They never spoke at night, both afraid of scaring away the other, or breaking the only moments of comfort that they allowed themselves to find in each other’s arms. Petyr had seemingly begun to notice that when she wakes up in his arms, embarrassed, she becomes far more closed off during the day than normal. So he started waking early so he could get ready for the day and wake her himself on his way down to break his fast, to avoid her hostility; she never woke in his arms but she always fell asleep in them. She wasn’t even sure how it started, either. Only that at some point they came together in the night and neither one wanted the routine to stop.

Harrenhal had grown cold in what felt like days, and in more ways than one. Besides Anton and a few of the older women that worked on the grounds, Sansa felt very alone. And as well, as her father would say, winter is coming: and fast. She couldn’t go outside without a fur cloak around her shoulders, pinned together beneath her chin with a silver mockingbird.

She was reading on the chaise lounge in his solar as he wrote scrolls behind his desk. It was dark outside, well past dusk, and so several candles were lit to compensate for the lack of light. She was halfway through a story about a young man who defeats a giant with only a slingshot and his intellect… And of course, his undying bravery. It was interesting enough… though she didn’t like it as much as Theseus and the Labyrinth or Perseus and Medusa.

“David and Goliath?” She looked up upon hearing his voice, not knowing he had been watching her. “I haven’t read that in a long time.” He sounded nostalgic as he placed his favourite quill down on the wooden surface of the desk to show her his attention was with her only. He had told her a few days ago about how he’s owned the same quill since he lived in Riverrun with her mother; how it was a phoenix feather that Lord Hoster Tully had gifted him when he first came to stay with them. It was one of the few possessions that he treasured. Sansa got the feeling he didn't receive gifts often.

“I’ve been reading through your collection of myths.” She replied as he stood, pushing his chair backwards in the process and then stepping around the desk to approach her.

“It’s a rather large collection.” He voiced, his hands clasped together at his midsection.

She shrugged. “Which one is your favourite?” She asked curiously. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he looked down at the worn cloth of the bookbinding in her hands.

“It used to be that one.” He admitted as he sat down beside her, his hands on his knees. “The underdog wins against impossible odds because of his brains and his courage as opposed to his muscles and birthright. Even his weapon of choice intrigued me. I used to find myself in him… I used to look up to David.”

She tilted her head to the side as she listened. “But that changed?” She surmised.

“I grew up.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “I learned that the underdog never wins if he plays by the rules.”

She liked hearing him talk about his past; learning new things about him, even if they were painful memories. She licked her lips as she built up the courage to ask him something that had been bothering her for a while. She leaned closer to him as she found his eyes. “Why did you do it?”

His brow creased and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Do what?” he asked, matching the quiet tone of her voice.

“Lie to the Boltons. Why not give me to him?”

His eyes dropped then and he sighed as if he had been expecting, yet dreading that question. “The… The whole point of giving you to him was to secure your position as lady of Winterfell and for me to later attack the castle and marry you again there. But if you hated me, you would never accept a marriage proposal, even if I made it so you needed my alliance; not after living with that little monster. That way was faster, but it wasn’t the only way to get what I want.”

The words sounded detached of emotion, but he had trouble hiding his feelings in the green of his eyes, and she searched them desperately for the real answer. She knew he was lying: she could tell. She looked away, disappointed. “And you still won’t tell me what you have planned for my sister?” She asked, then.

He shook his head. “I told you, sweetling,... It’s too sensitive right now. Later.” _ Later. _ Always later. She huffed and looked away. "I'm sorry, Sansa, but-"

"You've been saying that a lot lately." She replied coldly. He cringed, scratched awkwardly behind his head.

"How was your day?" He asked after a pregnant pause, choosing to change the topic.

She sighed through her nose, trying to let go of her ill feelings towards him and enjoy his attentive conversation instead. "Alright. It's gotten cold."

"It has. I saw my breath when I stood on the terrace this morning." He replied. "You received the fur cloak and wool dresses I had made for you?"

She nodded. "Yes, Thank you."

A small smile graced his face. "Did you like the pin?" He asked, looking down at her chest and then back up again. "You aren't wearing it now." He realized.

She felt a pang of guilt inside of her upon seeing his disappointment. She hated disappointing him. "I wore it this morning, my lord. On my cloak."

His eyes grew sad. "But you don't like it."

She looked down as she frowned. She _ did _ like it, but she didn't like what it stood for. He was marking her as _ his. _ And she didn't like the reminder of it; that she was no longer a Stark… That she was stuck here with him indefinitely… That there was no _ choice. _

"You don't have to wear it. I just thought it might be nice if we had something that tied us together. Something that showed other's that we're a team." He paused, her eyes moving back up to his. "Something that reminded _ us _that we're a team."

She smiled a little, finding his reasoning sweet. "It's not that I don't like it, Petyr. It's just… It makes me feel like I'm yours to mark and corrupt and use as you wish."

He smirked in return, throwing her off. "You _ are." _ He teased, earning a smack on the chest. His comment had made her laugh, though. "Alright, well… how's this?" He started, shifting closer and taking her hand. "You'll wear the pin for me, and I'll wear something for you."

This piqued her interest. "Like what?"

"Anything you want." He said. "A wolf, maybe?"

She smiled as the perfect solution came to her. "We could get matching rings with a wolf engraved on its surface! Robb had one like that a long time ago." She blurted out, excited. He smiled wide, his free hand moving up to caress her cheek.

"That sounds perfect." He said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

"So… matching pins and matching rings." She said, eyes moving down to his silver pin. She placed her hand over it, feeling the heat of him through his clothing beneath it.

"We're a team, Sansa. It's time we both start thinking so." He said, eyes serious as they stared into hers.

She nodded. She did agree. She just didn't know how to get to that point with him again. How to trust him. If they were a team, why were there so many secrets?

He dropped his hand from her face and straightened his spine. His thumb caressed the back of her hand and she tightened her hold on him, feeling the solidity of his many rings. She looked down at his hand in hers and spotted that same ring she saw before, the one with a different language written across it.

"What's this?" She finally asked, tapping the ring in question with her thumb. It was silver with black cursive scrawl around it. He let go of her hand briefly to remove the ring and he handed it to her. She was surprised by its weight as she flipped it over in her palm.

"High Valyrian." He told her simply, and she gapped.

"Do you speak it?" She asked.

"A little. But I can read and understand a lot more of it." He told her, pointing to the script on the ring. “It says _ valar morghulis,” _ then he turned the ring slightly to show the other side. “And _ valar dohaeris. _ It means ‘all men must die’ and ‘all men must serve’.” He told her. She hung onto every word.

“It was my great grandfather’s, who was from Braavos at the time. My father gave it to me when I left for Riverrun. It was the first ring I ever owned and the only possession I have from either of my parents.”

Sansa looked down, fingered the dragonfly necklace that sat just below her collarbone. “My mother gave me this.” She said sadly. “It’s also all I have.” They shared a knowing look and Petyr closed her fingers around his ring, bringing the fist up to his mouth to leave a sweet kiss there.

“We may be more alike than you realize, sweetling.” He said softly as he lowered their hands back to rest on the cushion between them. She thought about that comment for a long time, staring back into his eyes all the while.

“Thank you for telling me about the ring.” She said, looking down at their hands so she could slip it back onto his finger, over his knuckle and into place. He grabbed a hold of her hand once again.

“Thank you for telling me about your necklace.” He countered. The way he looked into her eyes made her feel special. Like she was the only person on his mind, in his heart. He looked at her like he’s never seen anything so beautiful before in his life.

“I think I’m going to head to bed, my love. Are you coming?”

She looked down at her long-forgotten book. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just going to finish this chapter.” She told him, gesturing to the two pages that she had left to read.

He smiled in reply, bowing his head and then walking towards the door. He was stepping through the threshold when she called out to him. She had to ask. Needed to know. His eyes met hers and he waited patiently for her to continue.

“What am I to you?” She finally asked, eagerly soaking up his reaction.

He was surprised by her question, clearly not expecting her to ask that. He looked down, contemplating his answer for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again.

He smiled but it was almost sad.

_ “Iksā iā perzys iemnȳ iā embar hen sȳndror” _

Then he closed the door gently behind himself and she was left wondering.

* * *

Sansa wished she was seasoned in high valyrian when he said that last night, because she knew that what he had told her was the truth, and that was why he had hid it behind a different language. He wasn’t ready to tell her the truth yet, and Sansa was okay with that. Now she knew there was _ something _to know. And that was good enough for now.

The frozen grass crunched under her boots as she walked. It was especially cold this morning, the air biting her bare cheeks till they reddened a deep shade. She shivered a little, pulling the fur cloak closer around her body and laying her bare hand over her mockingbird pin for a short moment, the silver stinging sharply against the warmth of her hand.

She walked around the side of the castle towards the front, eyeing the old ancient garden that she had yet to investigate. She approached the entrance: a gate made of stone with dozens of vines and moss to cover it’s surface, matching the rest of the maze. The rock was tall, reaching to about twice her height. Sansa’s stomach twisted as she crossed the threshold, a bad feeling suddenly arising in her. She spun around, wondering if her sudden nervousness had something to do with the eyes she felt boring into her. But she couldn’t see anyone around, so she kept walking.

Besides, Cersei had told Sansa that it contained the perfect reading spot by some sort of lake. She had been meaning to check it out ever since she arrived. Even if the temperature now didn't agree with reading outside by a body of water. It would still be pretty.

She still felt eyes on her, but she knew that unless someone was watching her from above, there was no way anyone could see her because of all the twists and turns she had already made.

She worried briefly about getting lost while the temperature was so low, but as she weaved through bushes and stone pillars and walls, she noticed that it was less like a maze, and more like a complicated garden that offered a lot of privacy. As she spun in a circle, she couldn't see anyway out, but she knew where she was simply by looking up at the castle that towered high in the sky. It would be easy to find her way out when she needed to.

Sansa shivered almost violently, wrapping her arms around herself. It seemed to have gotten colder in the last few minutes… or perhaps it was getting colder the closer she got to the center, the _ heart._

Her head whipped to the left when she heard something scrape against the rock wall just a few feet away, but she saw nothing. Her heart rate started to pick up and goosebumps rose along her arms. She started to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea, afterall.

She was about to turn around when her dress snagged a thorny branch by her feet and she scrambled, hearing the telltale sound of material tearing before she fell straight on her behind. She huffed, bending forward to unsnag her dress. _ That was enough _, she thought.

Then she caught sight of it: the center.

She pushed herself to her feet, hands steadying her body against the stone walls while she tried not to slip on the oddly placed patches of ice. Her fingernails dug into the moss as she tried to stay upright. She stepped forwards, turning the final corner and stopping to admire the heart's beauty.

It was a large open space with a bath-like pool in the center. She had expected it to look more natural, and so she was surprised to see the stone carved around the edges of the water and even a step leading up to its surface. It was a deep cobalt blue: one that was so dark, she couldn't see the bottom. And there were all sorts of floating plant life on its surface as well, logs, frozen lily pads and -even more strange- white water lilies. Though they were just as fully bloomed and beautiful as always, despite the cold and thin layer of frost collected on each petal.

Sansa was too busy admiring the flowers to notice what else was floating in the water.

She looked around to take it all in, the white wrought iron benches and layers of hanging vines that also held their own unaffected flowers. It was a beautiful sanctuary. She wondered why no one came here. Why no one was here now.

A sudden chill came over her, her spine freezing from top to bottom.

The water steamed in the frost biten air, making Sansa think the water was hot. How could it be hot? Perhaps it was some sort of hot spring?

She felt her feet moving forward before she could even register what was happening. Before she knew it, she was standing on the edge of the pool, reaching down to feel the temperature of the water.

The second her fingers dipped beneath the surface, she wanted to recoil. It was just as freezing as she would have expected it to be, had the water not steamed ambiguously. There were even thin layers of ice starting to form over the corners and edges of the water in the pool, making a sharp cracking sound as it froze.

She tried to remove her hand, but it was like the water wouldn't let her. Or perhaps she didn't truly want to be free of it? Her mind felt hazy.

Something was very, _very_ off here.

She yanked her hand back and pulled and pulled until _ finally _, she was able to free her herself. That's when she looked up, across the water's surface, and she saw what was truly floating there.

She met the cold, lifeless stare of her mother; eyes a pale blue.

Sansa gasped, the hand that had previously been submerged was brought up to cover her gaping mouth.

Bodies.

Bodies that she _ recognized! _

Her head spun.

It now suddenly seemed impossible that she ever saw the floating objects as anything but corpses.

Her eyes grazed over the dead body of her mother, taking in the angry red slit across her throat and her puffy face and hands from being in the water too long.

Sansa's eyes moved slowly to the next corpse, horrified and disgusted. This one was even worse, for it was her older brother's body, but with his direwolf's head attached. She felt herself gag, vomit rising threateningly in her throat as her stomach twisted. _ Had they truly done this to him? Mutilated his body so terribly? _

_ Is this real!? _

The questions screamed inside her, but she couldn't get a single word out.

She felt the tears begin to fall when she caught sight of her father's head. She was retching when she spotted the two burnt skeletons floating in the far corner, one far smaller than the other, and their clothes melted almost completely off. _ Bran. Rickon._

_Is this what Cersei intended when she told her about this place?_

She started hyperventilating when her foot slipped on ice that wasn't there a second ago, and she fell face first into the water.

Her lungs immediately filled when she gasped from the shock of the sudden stinging cold. She tried to cough but the water was everywhere and relentless.

And _freezing._

She kicked her legs hard to try and break the surface of the water as she watched it ice over her head. _ No. _ She would not die this way.

She smashed her fist against the ice and cracked it, smashing it another time to break through. It was a good thing it wasn't too thick quite yet. Luckily the water wasn't holding her back this time and she was able to gasp for much needed air after coughing up the water in her lungs.

She didn't get another moment however, until she felt two hands grab her and shove her down again. She flailed and kicked and tried desperately to break free but the hands were strong. She managed to look over her shoulder to see if she could catch sight of the person, but when she did, she saw no one. But the hands were still present and still pushing.

Sansa's eyes were wide, scared and helpless as her lungs burned for oxygen. She felt her body getting tired and her head growing dizzy sooner than she expected. Her body convulsed, trying to retch the water from her lungs. She screamed, her body shaking with fear and sobs that would never reach a single ear besides her own.

Sheer panic set in now as her vision spotted with black. This was how she was going to die.

She thought about her dead parents and Robb… her little brothers…

She thought about Arya and Jon and how she let them both down. How she let Theon and Jeyne down; how she made their sacrifices worth nothing.

She thought about Petyr. About the mockingbird clasped at the base of her throat.

She stopped fighting, stopped screaming, stopped shivering compulsively. Her body went motionless and her eyes closed, her chest burning with a searing form of pain she'd never experienced before. It was all she felt in the end: pain.

The last coherent thought she could focus on was how badly she wished she knew what Petyr had said last night. The thought of dying without _ knowing _ was a horrible pain on it's own.

Her lips parted as she felt the hands release her, withdrawing immediately as if they were never even there in the first place.

And her body was left floating like the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brr! That's chilling.
> 
> You finally get a Petyr chapter next. I know that isn't reassuring when it comes to Sansa's wellbeing, but... I have to make it interesting, right?
> 
> I told you it would get crazy again😱
> 
> Also, yes, Petyr knows some high valyrian in this fic.
> 
> Thoughts on this one? It's quite a change of pace.


	16. Code Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday my soft irish man.
> 
> I listened to Save Me by Rhye on repeat while writing this chapter. So if you like listening for the full effect, here's the link: https://youtu.be/-SXojTUtu3k
> 
> Another song that makes me think about this story is Code Blue by The Dream which is what this chapter was named after. I think it fits perfectly with these two - especially this chapter. Also it's a gem so give it a listen.

_ Robin, _

_ I am pleased to hear that you have taken so well to Alayne. You know how important it is to unite the houses together. How is your dear mother? I miss the both of you greatly. _

_ Yes, Sansa is doing well. I am very happy in my marriage, thank you for asking. She is wonderful. And yes, I suppose we will truly be related if you and Alayne marry. _

_ I look forward to your response. _

_ Petyr Baelish. _

Petyr finished off his signature and prepared the wax so he could seal the letter. He'd been corresponding with Robin as opposed to Lysa for many reasons as of the late. The main reason being that Lysa was still angry with him for marrying her niece, even though Petyr had no say in the matter. She has been obsessed with him ever since he met her in Riverrun all those years ago, so to hear that he married another, didn't bode well with their friendship.

The last letter she sent him, which was weeks ago, she threatened to end Sansa's life. Petyr didn't respond to that particular letter.

Robin still wrote like the young boy he was when he first met Petyr, but he _ has _ grown up quite nicely despite his mother's overbearing protective nature. Arya has aided with that since she's arrived in the Vale. Robin took an immediate liking to her, much as Petyr had hoped (and encouraged). They called her Alayne through their ravens, just in case they were intercepted.

Arya was harder to convince of the pairing, but eventually he got her to agree with a bit of blackmail. He found out early on, when she killed half the men he sent to kidnap her, that she was a skilled assassin. He was going to use that to his advantage as well.

He wasn't naive. He knew that Arya would come for him once Winterfell was in Sansa's hands again. But he hoped by then he could win Sansa's favor and Arya, not wanting to upset her sister, would let him live. Besides, he technically saved her life by stopping her from killing Cersei.

Petyr stretched, feeling drained from his afternoon spent with a quill in hand. He turned to look out the window. It was still bright outside, but what surprised him was the frosted grass; the ground almost completely white. It definitely has gotten significantly colder in the last few days alone.

He stood, running a hand through his hair and sighing as he entered the bedroom. He frowned when he found it empty. Sansa has taken to spending the majority of her days outside, but she was normally back by now to ready herself for dinner. Normally, he would sit with her and watch her braid her hair as he asked about her day.

He walked over to her side of the bed and picked up the book that laid on the top of the stack. _ Metaphysics _ written by Aristotle. Petyr grinned. His girl was learning. Learning and growing and thirsty for knowledge. He put the book back down and went into the solar again. He stood by the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her outside. But she wasn't by the stables or in the garden reading like she normally was. Petyr frowned again, deeper this time.

His hand moved to his chest, just above his heart and he squeezed the skin there… something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. He could feel it in the hair standing up at the back of his neck.

He decided to go looking for her to ease his mind, so he made his way downstairs to the lounge. Sansa wasn't there either. "My lord? Are you alright?"

Petyr spun around, catching sight of the middle aged woman he recognized as Adaline, who cleaned around the old castle every day. She was a kind woman that happened to take a particular interest in Sansa. He had seen the two of them stitching together quite a few times. She had long brown hair and a fair face that brightened substantially when she smiled.

"You're very pale." She added, taking a step forward with a concerned look. She had a white apron tied around her waist and as she waited for his answer, she wiped off her hands, leaving behind dusty markings.

"Have you seen Sansa?" He blurted out, the only question coming to the surface. His throat felt dry. Something was very wrong.

The woman frowned as she brought her hands together at her midsection. "Not for an hour or so." She replied, taking a thorough look around the castle from where they stood. "Is something wrong?"

_ Maybe she left. Maybe he'd finally pushed her over the line and she ran away: left him. _

Something ached inside him at the thought.

Perhaps he should check the stables for her horse.

Then he heard a scream. A terrible, blood curdling scream, and he felt his insides freeze.

The scream came from above them and Petyr ran to the stairs to see what the commotion was all about. A white-faced servant girl came stumbling toward the top of the staircase to meet Petyr halfway. The poor girl was trembling and her eyes were wide with terror.

"What!? What is it?" He demanded, scanning the floor to see if anything was amiss. Besides the glass of wine she'd dropped and split all over the stone floor, nothing seemed out of place.

"The-the window… I could see…" Her voice was shaky and she was on the verge of hyperventilating, so Petyr tried to be patient but his panic level was seriously starting to skyrocket.

"What!?" He asked sharply.

"She- lady Sansa… I can tell it's her by her hair… she's in that old garden..., she-"

_ "She what!?" _

_ It would probably be easier to go see for himself _, he thought.

"She's laying face down in the water. She's not moving."

Petyr felt frozen on the spot as shock and confusion rippled through him. Then he started moving without even realizing it, running down the stairs at lightning speed. He didn't have time to go look for himself, and even if he did, would he really want to? If the girl was right about what she’d seen, he wouldn’t want to see that until he was in a position where he could do something about it.

He heard people shouting at him as he ran, asking questions of concern, but they all blurred together. Adaline grabbed at his arm as he sprinted past, but he brushed her off, calling at her over his shoulder. "Get the maester! And get our bed ready!"

"Ready for what?" She yelled back, but he was already out the door and into the cold.

He wasn't dressed properly for the weather… the wind biting right through his clothes, but that was the last thing on his mind. He ran faster, skidding to a stop in front of the maze when he saw the multiple options in front of him. Left, right, straight. He looked down but her foot prints weren't visible.

He wanted to scream.

He needed to get to her but he couldn't.

He went right, then straight for a short time before taking a sharp left. It was purely his instincts leading him. He hit a dead end quickly so he doubled back. It was getting colder and colder the deeper he got, and the ground became more slippery. It was incredibly frustrating, knowing that she was so close but also so far away. And she needed him, now more than ever. He wasn’t going to disappoint her again.

"Sansa!" He shouted, knowing that if the servant girl had truly seen what she had claimed to, that Sansa wouldn't be hearing him… let alone answering his calls. But he had to try.

It felt like an eternity before he was standing in the clearing at the heart of the garden. And even centuries after that when he found the strength to move forwards upon seeing her. She was, like the girl had said, facedown in the pool of water. The sight of the heart was brand new to him. It was almost all iced over now, looking a lot like a winter wonderland. But it was very clearly tainted with darkness and death. It was eerily beautiful.

Petyr’s brow furrowed in confusion when he spotted the floating bodies of her dead family members. Petyr’s eyes met Catelyn’s and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. His jaw clenched tightly. _ Someone did this to Sansa. Someone had the bodies moved here discreetly so she would find them. _ He saw _ red. _ He would get revenge for her. He would kill anyone involved.

And if she died,

He would burn the world down.

He finally ran to her side after a short pause to access the situation. A thin layer of ice had frozen around the shape of her floating, lifeless form, and some of the water had even started freezing in the clothing of her dress at the back. Both his hands reached for her immediately, crunching the stiff material of her dress in his fists as he gripped the clothing and yanked her out of the water. Her clothes were practically frozen solid. He worried immediately about how long she had been like this? How long had she been in trouble and he hadn’t noticed?_ ... Hours? _

Her soaked body flopped back against his chest but he caught her easily. "Sansa?" He breathed, lowering her to the snowy ground and turning her to face him.

He felt his heart falter. She was blue-pale and her eyes were closed tightly. "Oh, no no, Sansa!"

Her skin was freezing to the touch. It didn’t even feel like skin at all. He pressed his fingers to the side of her neck but he couldn't find a pulse. "Sansa, stay with me. Please stay with me!" He cried as he pressed his ear to her chest to listen for any sign that she was still alive.

He couldn't hear anything.

He tried to stand up, slipping as he did so. With a curse, he finally made it to his feet and then bent down to pick her up, hauling her into his arms. He ran as fast as he could back the way he came and luckily he made it out far quicker than he made it in.

"Help!" He shouted, panting from the excursion of running and carrying the woman in his arms, who was also soaked to the bone.

"Help!"

He caught many people's attention as he bounded through the doors. Many gasped and stared helplessly as he passed them. He slid a few times on the stone that was now slippery due to her dripping body. "Adaline!" He screamed, hoping to god she had listened to his orders earlier. He felt frantic. _ useless. _

"Yes, Lord Petyr, up here!" She yelled back as he made it to the top of the stairs.

The covers of their bed had been stripped back to the sheet and the maester stood at the side waiting. There were all sorts of different instruments and bowls of herbs and other such liquids and grains laid out and prepared. Petyr was beyond relieved that his cleaning lady had listened to his orders and gotten prepared for their return.

"What happened?" The maester demanded as Petyr laid the dripping wet girl on the bed sheets.

"I-I don't know." He stuttered. "She was face down in freezing water."

A worried expression crossed the aged man's face. He pressed his fingers to her neck, but upon feeling nothing, he tore open the front of her dress and pressed his ear just over her heart like Petyr had done moments ago.

"She's alive but barely and she's fading fast." He announced, folding his hands together atop her chest before he started compressions.

Petyr couldn’t think clearly and there was a terrible pain in his chest. Was it fear? Everything felt blurry to Petyr… As if he were dreaming. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, hoping that when they opened again, he would wake up next to her. But no such miracle occured. She was still blue and lifeless on their bed, her wet clothes dampening their sheets.

The maester was counting under his breath with each compression, stopping occasionally to pinch her nose and hold her mouth open as he blew oxygen into her body. He continued pumping her heart again. The fact that she could hardly work her own heart on her own was crushing to Petyr.

He felt frozen in place as he watched, the front of his clothes were soaked from carrying her and his heart was hammering out of his chest as he held his breath_ . _ He lifted a hand to his head and ran his fingers through his messy hair. He was briefly aware of how badly he was shaking, his hands not able to hold steady for even a moment.

"Does anyone know how to give mouth-to-mouth!?" The man gritted out as he breathed hard, continuing the steady compressions to her chest. No one in the room moved. "Baelish!" The man snapped and he jumped into action, coming to Sansa's side. "You need to help me."

"What do you need me to do?" Petyr asked, shedding his jacket and climbing onto the bed beside her on his knees.

The maester grunted as he continued pumping her heart. "Tilt her chin up and open her mouth. Yes, good, now with the other hand, pinch her nose closed." Petyr did as he instructed. "Then cover her mouth with yours and blow the oxygen into her lungs. Do two breaths and then wait a moment and do two more."

He did everything the maester ordered, hoping he could help in any way possible. "You!” The man yelled at Adaline, who was ringing her hands together anxiously. Get anything hot that you can to warm her up. Blankets, candles, anything."

The lady scurried out of the room to fetch the supplies as Petyr took another deep breath and pushed the air down her throat. It had been so long since his lips touched hers. So long. But of course, this was much different than a kiss. Much, much different.

Petyr didn’t notice he was crying until he saw the tears dripping onto Sansa’s face. He wiped them off of her as he caressed the side of her cheek with those shaky hands of his. How could this happen? Did she do this to herself? Petyr felt like he couldn’t _ breathe _. Had he made life so terrible for her that she decided to end her own life? He made a choking noise as he tried to keep back his sobs, but the maester heard. Luckily he didn’t say a thing about it and just carried on trying to save her life.

Someone clearly put those bodies there, multiple ‘somebody’’s, but she knew how to swim, didn’t she? How could she drown in a still pool? Did she slip and hit her head? Perhaps she fainted upon seeing the bodies? That certainly seemed likely… but still… Would she not wake up and save herself?

“Sweetling…” He whispered quietly, pinching her nose once more to blow into her mouth again. “God, please.” He prayed, resting his forehead on hers momentarily. He leant in towards her lips once more, but he stopped blowing the oxygen into her when he felt another cry tear through his body. He kissed her, his body trembling now with barely restrained sobs. He was falling apart.

“You have to hold it together, my lord.” The maester ordered as he continued working. “You have to hold it together for her.”

Petyr nodded, taking a deep breath and pushing all his fears and worries and _ pain _ deep down inside so he could focus instead on helping to save her life.

"Oh, come ON!" The maester shouted as he pounded once very hard on Sansa's chest with the side of his fist. Petyr was about to tell him off for hitting her so hard, but her body jolted and her head whipped to the side as she spit up water, her body convulsing to throw it all up.

Petyr gasped, his heart soaring as his eyes widened. He reached for her. "Sansa!? Sansa are you okay?" But her eyes were closed again. Had they even opened? "What was that? Is she okay?" He demanded to know, as the maester stopped the compressions and stepped back as he panted hard.

"The water is out of her lungs but she has severe hypothermia. She still has a long and hard fight ahead of her. We need to get her out of these clothes and warmed up." He felt for her pulse again. "She's so weak… barely holding on now. But she isn't dead until she's warm and dead." He had a determined air about him, so Petyr felt the slightest bit better.

Both men started stripping her of the stiff, frozen clothing. Petyr didn't exactly want another man seeing her so vulnerable and exposed, but he knew that now was not the time to be jealous or protective. The other man was professional the entire time, anyways. They left her small clothes on but she was bare from the waist up. The rest of her body was just as pale-gray as her face and hands were.

"What now?" Petyr asked as he covered her with the covers, both for her warmth and also her modesty. Adaline rushed back into the room with handfuls of fur blankets, which were immediately laid over her as well.

"I'll start a fire!" She announced as she moved over to the fireplace on the other side of the room.

The maester started mixing some herbs and other such things. "We need to warm her up fast. That's the only way she'll live."

"What's the most efficient way to do that?" Petyr asked next, laying his hand on her cold, pale forehead.

"Body heat, my lord."

Petyr didn't hesitate a second longer. His shirt was off in a flash and his shoes kicked off before moving the covers aside. The maester seemed to agree with his decision, but he held a hand up to stop him for a moment longer. He had made some sort of paste, that was a dark maroon colour, and he used two fingers to spread it on both sides of her neck and all over her chest. Then he motioned for Petyr to lay down and he listened. He wasn’t exactly ecstatic to have a sticky paste pressed between their bodies, but if it helped her even a little… It was worth being uncomfortable for. A chill immediately spread through his body when his bare chest touched her's, but it was far less from the contact and more from the coldness of her skin. It felt like ice.

But if her skin was chilling him, that meant that his skin felt like a searingly hot fire that was seeping through to her. And that was all that mattered.

The maester helped drape the blankets back over the both of them as he nodded approvingly. Petyr laid most of his weight on her and rested his head just beside hers, trying to give her chest the heat within his own. Trying to thaw the frozen blood in her veins.

And maybe even her frozen heart. The same one that he was responsible for freezing over himself.

He wrapped his arms around her, elevating her chest even further to push against his own, so that his arms helped spread warmth from her back to her chest as the rest of his body worked the heat from the opposite direction. “There isn’t much more we can do now, Petyr.” The maester announced as he rolled down his sleeves. “It’s up to her whether she lives or whether she dies. Just keep her as warm as possible.”

“You’re going?” Petyr asked sharply, looking over his shoulder.

He nodded soberly. “I’m going to rest for a little bit. She may need my strength later. Right now, it’s only yours that she needs.”

That comment stuck in Petyr’s head for a long time afterwards. He thought about it for hours as he laid on top of her still form. _ She needs him. His strength and his love. She needs it all. _ The guilt that he felt washing through him as he gave her all the body heat he possessed, was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He hurt her so badly. Risked so much with that deal with the Bolton’s; if things were reversed, he would probably never trust her again. Not to mention the fact that he forced her to sentence her own friend to a prison that he had created for _ her. _ He knew it tore her up inside to do that. She was like him in many ways, yes, but not in that way. She was the most compassionate soul he’s ever met. And she felt the guilt intensely. And he was still keeping things from her, which also added to the hurt.

And then there was the consummation.

It broke his heart to do that to her. That was something he had been looking forward to ever since Cersei told him of their upcoming wedding. He was looking forward to connecting with her in such a way. He was looking forward to showing her how good he could make her feel. A night of passion is what he had wanted. He was looking forward to hearing her scream his name in bliss. But their consummation was none of those things. He had tried to make it as nice for her as possible but she was so stubborn, so _ hurt _ and angry to let herself enjoy it. Not that he was blaming her at all for how it went. He knew it was his fault. All of it was his fault. Her lying lifeless right now was also _ his fault. _

He pressed a desperate kiss to her cheek, willing himself not to cry. She needed his strength, so he needed to be strong for her.

He had fallen in and out of sleep for what must have been a few hours until the door to their chambers was pushed open and Adaline stepped through. Petyr didn’t move from his place on top of her, but he did turn his head to the side to look questioningly upwards. The woman offered him a sad smile as she stepped closer to the two of them.

“Do you need anything?” She asked in a small voice, resting her hand on Sansa’s head to stroke her hair lovingly, almost parentally.

Normally Petyr wouldn’t let his household staff see him or his wife so exposed and vulnerable. Petyr was never looking unprofessional, but here he was bare from the waist up and distraught beyond compare. He shook his head. In truth he was thirsty, but he didn’t care. Sansa wasn’t drinking so neither was he.

“Her skin looks much better.” She said aloud as she assessed the unconcious girl.

_ Does it? _ He hadn’t even noticed. He pulled his head back enough to look at her face. Yes, in fact, her skin was still very pale but her lips were no longer purple and her skin was less corpse-like in appearance. He breathed out a sigh of relief. At least it was working. At least he could say he did _ something _ good for her since they met. Even if it was just simply laying with her.

“You spent quite some time with her in the last little while, haven’t you?” Petyr asked the woman, voice gentle as if he was worried he’d wake Sansa, which was ironic seeing as that was all he wanted to do, but somehow it felt right to talk softly in a time such as this. Adaline pulled up a chair and sat beside him. She nodded. “Did she ever… I mean, did you ever talk about…”

“You?” She guessed innocently. Petyr chewed on his bottom lip, feeling a sting in his eyes again. He nodded, not knowing if he could speak at the moment without his voice breaking. “We did, yes.”

Petyr swallowed thickly. “And what did she tell you?”

“Not much.” She assured him. “She said that something happened between the two of you and that she… Well she’s hurt. And she’s struggling because she cares about you, but she doesn’t know where you stand.”

“I don’t know how to make it right.” He admitted. “I don’t know how to make her happy again.”

“Sure you do, my lord.” She shrugged. “Women are easy to please as much as you men seem to think otherwise.” She paused as she watched her words sink in. “Just be _ honest _ with her. That’s all she wants.”

Petyr nodded slowly. He looked down at her again, wishing he could look into those blue eyes of hers. Wishing he could get lost in them again. “All I want is for her to be okay.” He admitted, his voice a whisper.

Petyr’s attention shifted to the woman at his side. She smiled encouragingly. “My lord... Her family is dead and she probably feels incredibly alone right now.” She paused, standing up. “Tell her that she_ does _ have someone waiting for her. Missing her. _ Loving _her.”

He clenched his jaw, looking down at her again. He heard the woman’s footsteps as she left and shut the door behind her. His eyes closed as the tears formed. _ He did, didn’t he? -Love her. _ Her hair was completely dry, as was her skin, and he brushed her messy locks from her face. “Gods, you’re beautiful.” He said aloud, taking Adaline’s advice and speaking his mind.

He waited, as if expecting her to comment back, and then sighed heavily when she didn’t. “I miss your smile. And not just now… It’s been different since everything happened. It’s like... when you smile, it’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s heavier somehow. I can tell how much is weighing on you.” He swallowed thickly. “I miss your old smile.”

“And your eyes.” He went on, smiling to himself as he imagined her hearing him and giggling in response. “Those blue eyes that stare straight into me.”

He looked away from her, blinking away the tears. “I don’t want you to leave, Sansa. Do you hear me?” The pads of his fingers dragged down the skin of her neck. “I want you. I don’t want to live without you, my sweet. My love.”

His forehead fell down onto hers. He leaned forwards to press a kiss to her now warm lips. It was gentle and it held more meaning than Petyr was really ready to adress. He breathed a laugh as he pulled away. “Sorry… I know I told you that I wouldn’t touch you again. I guess that was just another lie.” He swallowed down his own bitterness. “Alright, sweetling, you want a big, deep-seated confession, do you?”

He shook his head, thinking it was ridiculous to be telling her these things when she couldn’t hear him. What was the point? But if it could help… even just the tiniest bit… He would tell her everything; show her every part of him down to the darkest corners of his very soul. If that’s what it took.

Hell, he’d build her a kingdom… fight through hell to give her the world. And then, once he made it out after a life of pain, he’d give her his crown and bow at her feet. Because she was his Queen.

“You give me purpose and strength, Sansa.” He started, running his thumb over her bottom lip. “My life has been a series of dark choices and events; lies and deceit and betrayal.” He caught sight of the ring she had asked him about not too long ago, and thought about the matching rings that he was currently having made for them. Would he ever have the chance to give it to her? He spoke truthfully, truly opening his heart for the first time since he was a boy. “I didn’t know what it was like to have a light in those dark places. I didn’t know one could exist in the depths of such pain; I didn’t know that a heat could warm those long frosted-over parts of myself.”

His heart ached as he uttered the truth. “You are that light, Sansa, that heat. You showed me what’s possible. I had long given up on love or lightness or anything pure. I thought that the only form of happiness I could ever reach, would be through power. But power only left me with more pain.” He smiled down at her, letting those tears fall freely.

“Then you flickered into view,_ Iksā iā perzys iemnȳ iā embar hen sȳndror.” _ His tongue gilded easily over those words as he stared at her. She may never know the answer to that question she asked him: _ What am I to you? _

He kissed her again, on the center of her forehead.

“You are a flame within a sea of darkness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Not dead until warm and dead" is popular in medical research, so credit of that quote goes to many articles and tv shows. I don't know where it originally came from.
> 
> >>ALSO the scene where Petyr lays on her to warm her up was inspired by the movie Charlie St Cloud. In fact the cold water/hypothermia idea in general was inspired by that movie.<<
> 
> Let me know what you thought, guys.


	17. Wait, Who Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where I say my apologies and excuses, and trust me, I have valid ones. But truth is this last month has been one of the hardest of my life and so I'm really sorry that I've been absent from this story and the others for so long, but I just wasn't in the right head space to write it. I'm still not sure if I am... but I'm trying.
> 
> I'm not going to promise when the next chapter will be up... I'd like to say soon, but I'm not sure. I hope it will be in the next week.
> 
> Enjoy, and thanks for being so patient.

Petyr woke to the steady beating of her heart beneath his cheek. Steady, and strong.

He lifted his head to look at her face and he was delighted to see the colour completely restored. _ She's going to be okay. _ The relief washed over him in refreshing waves.

One of his hands moved up to touch her cheek, the tips of his fingers feeling the softness of her skin with greed. _ She's so beautiful. So very, very beautiful. _

Her closed eyes tightened slightly as her lips parted. '_ She was waking up.' _He realized. She let out a shaky breath as her eyes soon worked open. It took her a long few moments to blink away the sleep and register what was going on around her. He had never been more thankful to see those blue eyes than he was now. They never looked as gorgeous as they did now. But then, maybe he was just so relieved to see those blues again.

She looked at him, took in his bare chest and how it was pressed against hers… how he was laying on top of her. How she was naked.

"Sweetling." He breathed, moving his hand around to hold her chin.

And then, surprising him, she screamed. Her eyes widened with fear as they narrowed in on him.

He scrambled to his feet, accidentally taking the blanket with him to expose her completely. "Sansa! Sansa it's me!" He tried to calm her, holding his hands up in defense as she grabbed at the covers and drew them over her body to hide her nakedness.

"What are you doing here!?" She yelled, looking on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Sansa-"

"Where am I!?" She demanded next, looking around hastily to try and see if she recognized her surroundings.

"What? Sansa you're in our bedroom." He tried to explain, stepping closer to her. Though he immediately moved backwards again when she jumped away from him.

"I- Did you take advantage of me?" She asked accusingly, clutching the sheet tighter to her chest. The way she was looking at him… like he disgusted her. It pained his heart.

The maester rushed into the room then, asking what was wrong. "She… I don't know. She woke up and-" Petyr felt useless.

The maester, clearly recognizing that Petyr had nothing to tell him, breezed past him to approach Sansa. "Shh, it's okay lady Sansa. Just breathe." He calmed her. Sansa was too distracted to listen to the maester, for her eyes remained on Petyr's person… looking terrified.

"Lord Baelish, would you mind giving us a moment?" The other man asked kindly. Petyr felt like a failure. He gave her one last searching look before leaving the room.

Petyr hated that he was the problem. She needed space from him to get better. She looked so scared of him. So confused.

Petyr ran both hands through his hair, closing his eyes with regret. He'd hurt her so badly. So badly that she hurt herself. Or did someone else do this to her? He'd burn whoever responsible to ash. Though, that may mean he'd be burning himself.

"My lord?"

Petyr turned at the sound of a woman's voice, seeing Adaline standing timidly at the top of the stairs. "Is… is she…?"

"She's alive." He managed to mutter out, realizing what she must have thought by the lost look on his face.

She sighed in relief. "Oh, gods. I feared the worst. You haven't left her side since you found her."

"The maester asked me to leave." He admitted. "I… She woke up."

"She did?" Adaline asked in surprise, eyebrows raised. "How is she? Why did he ask you to leave?"

Petyr hesitated. He was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? "She… She was hysterical. Confused… _ Scared." _Petyr felt himself deflate. "She was scared of me. As she rightfully should be."

Clearly he was a monster. She _ should _ be scared. She should want as much space from him as possible. He didn't blame her one bit. He was almost scared of himself: of the things he was capable of. He'd made a drastic, selfish, mistake. And now he had to make up for it.

He paced and paced and paced and then he paced some more. He wasn't sure how much time had gone by, only that it felt like the longest morning of his life. Although one thing he did notice was the sun rising high in the sky while he waited.

Even the stable boy had heard of Sansa's condition, and made his way upstairs to ask after her. Normally Petyr would have barked at him to leave out of jealousy. But he didn't have it in him to care. So instead he sat on the stone ground outside his bedroom in silence with the young man seated beside him, until he made his apologies and left to tend to the stables once more.

And Petyr was waiting alone again, with the exception of Adaline, who stopped by ever so often to check in. The woman looked to be worried sick.

Eventually the door did swing open and Petyr's heart jumped as he stood from his place on the cold hard ground. The maester looked stressed, much to Petyr's displeasure.

"How is she?" He asked urgently, dreading the answer.

The man in front of him sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Stable. She's currently experiencing brain hypoxia. It's a result from her not getting enough oxygen for a long period of time. She has a bit of amnesia and she'll likely experience some more symptoms as well. She had a small seizure after you left but she's okay now. She's going to need a lot of attention for the next day… She should not be left alone."

"Amnesia? Is it temporary?" Petyr worried, trying to peek inside and catch a glimpse of her through the crack in the door that was left a jar.

"Likely, yes."

"Likely? She didn't even remember me! What if it isn't temporary?" He asked, concerned. Would that really be _ that _ bad? He would get to start fresh with her… do things right this time. _ No, _he couldn't think that way.

"Most of the time brain hypoxia patients get their memory back in a few hours or days at the most. I wouldn't worry just yet." He paused, unrolling his sleeves. "I've given her some medicines to calm her down and relax her body."

"Will she freak out if I go in?" He asked, wanting to see her but not wanting to upset her again.

"I don't think so. Just be… _ Patient _ with her. She's very disoriented and confused. And be aware that other symptoms could appear. Hallucinations for example. She may not seem like her ordinary self." The maester explained calmly. Petyr nodded in agreement. "And call me immediately if she starts seizing. I won't be far."

Petyr felt sick as he stepped cautiously into the room, catching the eyes of a woman that seemed to barely recognize him. She was dressed in a cream shift now, her hair combed through but left wavy from last night's soak. She was calm, but fidgety; quiet but hesitant.

Petyr softly closed the door behind him and then clasped his hands behind his back in a non-threatening position. He stepped closer and she watched each move cautiously.

"Hello." He said gently, saying the only thing he seemed to be able to conjure up.

She swallowed thickly as he made his way closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Hi." She replied.

He exhaled long and slow, thinking about where he should start. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." She said, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Petyr's hands twitched, wanting to reach for her... to push her hair back for her. "What's going on?" She asked next, opening the door for Petyr to see where she was at with her memories.

"Something happened to you, sweetling. An accident. You've lost some of… you have amnesia." He said instead. She didn't seem surprised, which made Petyr think the maester explained this to her already. "What do you last remember? I'll try my best to fill in the gaps after that." He paused, running a shaky hand through the back of his hair as he considered this next part. This part that could hurt him deeply.

"Do you know who I am?"

Sansa's eyes left his face to travel down his body and back up, as if giving her memory a chance to catch up. "Lord Baelish, yes. A part of the King's Council. We've spoken a few times."

"Is that all I am to you?" He asked, a pang of hurt ripping through his chest. She didn't remember any of their shared moments; moments that he himself treasured. Though, of course, that also meant she didn't remember the bad either.

"Are you supposed to be more, my lord?" She asked with a pinched brow. "The maester said I am in Harrenhal. Why am I here?"

Petyr looked around their room briefly. The fire was dying and the ground was littered with all sorts of things: clothes, extra furs and pillows, spilled herbs and spices. It was quite the mess, actually.

Petyr sighed. "The Queen Regent ordered us to marry, Sansa."

"We're betrothed?" She asked, her mouth making a small 'O'.

Petyr hesitated. "We… We got married in King's Landing and then came here to live as Lord and Lady of Harrenhal. We've been married for some time now."

Sansa's eyes fell down to the space between them, chewing on her bottom lip as a million thoughts raced through her mind.

"This morning… were you… were you, uhm…"

Understanding lit Petyr's eyes and he shook his head urgently. "Oh, no! No, you had hypothermia and the maester said body heat was the fastest way to warm you up. That's all I was doing."

"Oh," she sighed in relief, causing another pang of hurt to shoot through him. "Do we… have children?"

The question surprised him. Did she want children? Of course he wanted an heir or two, but did he want to be a father? Did Sansa want to be a mother? He supposed she probably did… though maybe not with him. Which of course, hurt even more to think of.

"No, we don't." He decided to leave out the part of it being impossible for them to have conceived a child, figuring that that wasn't something they needed to talk about.

Sansa looked slightly put out by his answer, which made him even more curious. Sansa had never even mentioned children before… Does she truly want them this badly? Perhaps she didn't mention it because he refused to bed her. Idiot that he was to refuse her.

"So… are we… happy?" She asked quietly, almost shy. Petyr swallowed hard, but it did nothing to rid his throat of the large lump constricting his airways.

"Yes." He lied, or half-lied. There were times when they were truly happy, weren't there? They had moments in King's Landing and a few here in Harrenhal, didn't they?

She smiled then, but it was thin: weak. He couldn't blame her. She didn't remember any of it. How was she supposed to be happy about events that have happened, that she didn't remember?

"I have a husband." She stated, more to herself than him. Petyr nodded anyways, knowing it wasn't exactly a question.

She wasn't asking about her family, so Petyr assumed she remembered what happened to her father, mother and eldest brother. Good, that saved him from having to hurt her with that knowledge.

"So what happened to me?" She asked, not surprisingly. Petyr had been wondering what to say when she asked such a thing.

"I found you in the twisted garden, face down in the pool. I don't know how you got there. Maybe someone held you down or maybe… There was a layer or ice over the surface of the water so maybe you slipped and couldn't get back up. I'm not sure." Petyr replied truthfully.

Something in his gut was telling him it wasn't an accident, but he couldn't be sure. He knew that if she fell in, she would be able to get herself out… she was a fighter. But what scared him was the idea that maybe she gave up. Maybe she didn't mean to do this to herself, but when she was in that cold water and the ice was restricting her ability to resurface… maybe she just gave up fighting. Maybe she didn't _ want _ to fight anymore. And that thought broke his heart.

"You saved me?" She asked, eyes wide and hopeful. He nodded once, images of her frozen, limp body flashed before his eyes. "Thank you." She said sincerely as she reached towards him and took his hand.

_ Oh, don't thank me, sweetling. Please don't thank me. It's my fault. _

Petyr just squeezed her hand in return, missing her warmth. _ Please let this be temporary. _ Petyr couldn't stand the guilt of having a future with her when she didn't remember their rocky past. And the thought of having to admit to it all… to tell her… He couldn't. She needed to remember.

She fell asleep shortly after that, and Petyr was thankful, needing some air and space to digest everything. He was standing on the terrace, trying to keep warm, when someone stepped up behind him.

"My lord." Adaline's voice greeted solemnly.

Petyr didn't move. He couldn't; frozen by the coldness surrounding both his body and heart. Perhaps that was how Sansa felt in that pool: engulfed in biting darkness.

Adaline stepped closer, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. Still, he couldn't move. A sting of cold touched under his left eye, and that was how he knew he was crying. Still, he couldn't wipe the water from his face.

"She's okay. That's all that matters." Her feminine voice filled the space between them.

"She doesn't remember us." He managed to grit through his teeth. Still, he was conflicted with that knowledge.

"For now, my lord." She countered, moving her hand from his shoulder and taking her warmth away with her. Soon, the hand was offered up to him again, though this time there was a small bundled up package in her palm.

"Remind her." She added simply, waiting until he finally found enough strength to move -hope warming his frozen joints- and retrieved the item in her hand before leaving him alone again.

The package was light, and he picked curiously at the wrappings until understanding crossed his expression. These were made far faster than he would have expected. In his open palm sat two rounded steel rings, both engraved with a detailed direwolf in charcoal. Petyr plucked one from his hand and turned it in between two of his fingers to inspect every inch of it. She wouldn't even know the significance. She wouldn't remember.

When he returned to the room, it was in chaos again, a hand maid had dropped a tray of food and water to the ground as Sansa's body started shaking uncontrollably. Petyr felt the ice in his veins again. _ Think _.

He rushed to the bed, turning her on her side so she wouldn't choke on the foam gathering from her mouth. _ What was he supposed to do!? _ The hand maid must have screamed, or maybe he did, because the maester ran in soon after.

Petyr was appalled to learn that there was nothing they could do except keep her on her side and _ wait it out! _

He held her for about a minute, though it felt more like an hour, before slowly her body stopped twitching and she just lay unconscious. The maester ordered him to just let her rest, so he laid with her for hours like that, with nothing but his treacherous thoughts to listen to. Well, that and the sound of her steady breathing.

"Lord Baelish?" She mumbled groggily from his chest. He looked down, stroking her hair.

"I'm here, sweetling." He assured, bending his head to kiss her near her temple.

She moved away from him a little, and he had to resist the urge to pull her closer again. Though she only distanced herself it seemed, to get underneath the furs.

"Are you tired, too?" She asked, laying her head down on the pillow beside where he was sitting upright. He rubbed at his eyes. Yes, he was exhausted, but too worried to sleep.

He turned his head to look out the window. How was it already dark again?

"Will you stay with me, my husband?" She asked as she closed her eyes. He was surprised by the title in which she addressed him. The idea of having a husband seemed to be growing on her.

"Of course, my love." He said quietly as he bent to remove his boots. He worked his belt next, removing the uncomfortable layers. When he was satisfied, he drew back the furs and laid beside her, drawing her to him once more. She happily moved closer, tucking her small body into his and sighing in content.

"My love?" She questioned sleepily, sounding barely awake at this point. There was a pregnant pause between them, where his heart started hammering against his ribcage. He knew what she was asking. "You love me, lord Baelish?"

"Petyr." He corrected, avoiding her question.

"Petyr." She repeated, her hand gliding over his chest to wrap around his torso.

She didn't ask him that question again, and such a long time passed that he was almost sure she was asleep. He sighed deeply, rubbing her back in long strokes. He missed being near her. Missed touching her and holding her and seeing the lightness in her eyes -not weighed down by his betrayals. He missed her.

He breathed in her scent, subconsciously pulling her closer against him. He needed her.

He left another kiss on the top of her head.

"Yes, sweetling." He confessed in the silence of their room. "I love you."

* * *

Petyr didn't catch a wink of sleep that night. His mind was racing with worry. Sick, painful worry. Sansa on the other hand, slept soundlessly, barely stirring throughout the night. Petyr knew that, of course, because he was awake and watching her.

Sometime around dawn he drew himself away from the warmth of her body and dressed for the day. He settled on a black tunic with silver mockingbirds and designs stitched in throughout it. It was probably his most elegant tunic, most expensive, and he wasn't quite sure why he chose to wear it today of all days. But for some reason he was drawn to it. If Sansa only had the future to make memories with him, and had none of the past, he wanted to look good. He wanted her to love him.

He took time combing his hair, taming it from the stress of the past couple days and the wrestling of sleep that never overtook him. When he was satisfied, he made his way back to a sleeping Sansa, still completely unconscious in their bed.

She looked like an angel in truth. A complete angel. The sight of such an angelic creature made him feel like the true devil she probably saw him as. She was sweet in nature, and unbelievably kind. More like how he was when he was a boy. Before life offered him a bad hand. A dose of reality. But then again, she was real. She was right here in front of him. She was his reality now: this beautiful, beautiful creature.

Petyr opened the top drawer of the vanity and retrieved the package that held the two rings. He had stored it there last night to keep them safe. He slipped the bigger one onto his finger, replacing it with the silver ring that always found a home on the fourth finger of his left hand. Then he approached Sansa, tossing the wrappings on the ground for now. He was gentle, trying hard not to wake her, as he lifted her left hand and wiggled the ring over her knuckle. He gave it a kiss when he finished, placing the hand back where he found it. They will be united, even if she doesn't remember. This was what she wanted, after all. It was the least he could do. Not that she would even be aware of that.

Petyr's eyes moved to the nightstand beside the bed, eyeing the small stack of books she'd taken from his library. One in particular caught his attention: _ The Full Collection of Percy Bysshe Shelley _. He felt a stab of pain as he remembered that lovely afternoon. She looked so beautiful in that dress, in that light. And when he'd kissed her… it was so real. He could almost feel her lips against his even now: taste her on his tongue.

He reached for the volume, the leather soft under his finger tips. He held it in both hands and surprisingly it flipped open to a page about a third of the way in. Upon further inspection, he spotted the reason why the book opened to this particular page. It was a pressed flower. A daisy… specifically the daisy he had gifted her with that day. His heart clenched. And she had even pressed it on the page of the poem he had read to her. _ Love's Philosophy. _

He had no idea something so small could mean so much to her. Does that mean she cares for him, too? Clearly she had wanted to remember that moment, which was why she pressed the flower between those particular pages. But what did that mean, really? He frowned slightly when he realized that despite her wanting to remember such a moment… she wouldn't regardless.

_ She still might. _ He reminded himself. He shouldn't be thinking so morbid. Not now when she needed him most.

"Pete-"

Petyr's eyes snapped back over to where his wife lay tangled in their sheets. He gently closed the book and placed it back on top of the stack and moved towards her. She wasn’t awake yet, but she was stirring for the first time all night. He placed his hand on the shoulder closest to him, resisting the urge to scoop her up in his arms and hold her close again. Her back was to him, so he had to lean over her to watch her eyes flutter open, but it wasn’t long before he was reunited with startling blue.

It took her a minute to adjust to the light invading the room around her, but when she did, her eyes landed squarely on him. Her shoulders relaxed slightly before she surprised him by springing upright, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, securely, as she began to cry.

“I’m here, sweetling.” He breathed into her hair, kissing her cheek. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

She cried into his shoulder, fisting the expensive material of his tunic as she held him against her. He kept repeating the same three words, not knowing what else to say. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

Why was she so upset all of a sudden?

“Sansa, what is it?” He asked, concerned. At first he thought perhaps she was just overwhelmed, but now… Now it seemed like something else entirely. “Sansa?” He questioned as he pulled back to look at her.

She tried to smile, but there were tears still streaming down her face and her bottom lip was still quivering. “Before we say anything. I need to know…” She started, mysteriously. What was she talking about?

She rested a hand on either side of his face, making sure to keep his full attention. As if anything could draw his eyes away from her. “What did it mean?”

“What did _ what _ mean?” He frowned. Was she hallucinating or something? The maester said it was a possibility.

“When you answered my question in high valyrian.” She explained, making his eyes light up almost comically. “What did it mean?”

The air left Petyr’s lungs all at once and he suddenly felt like time was freezing. “You remember?” He breathed, lips parted in surprise. A small smile graced her face as she wiped at her tears. She nodded.


	18. The Big Bad Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't lying when I said it was back!
> 
> The perspective switches from Petyr to Sansa near the end, FYI ;)

Petyr wasn’t even sure how it happened or who initiated it, but a second later his lips were on hers and he was kissing her with everything he had. He had made a promise that he was once again breaking: Never to touch her again unless she asked him to. But this felt like coming home. It felt like _ home. _ It wasn’t just something he wanted, but something he needed. He hoped it was something she needed, too.

And she was kissing him back. Just as passionately. Just as needy. Her fingers threaded through the hair he had taken time to comb back, but that was the last thing he cared about. Right now he just needed her. He needed her badly. He didn’t want to take it too far, but if they were already having sex at that point, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from making love to her right then and there, just to be as close to her as possible. Because kissing her didn’t feel anywhere near enough.

Soon the lack of oxygen caught up to them both and they were forced to break a part. Petyr kept his forehead against hers as he panted along with her, his eyes still closed.

“I love you, Sansa.”

That wasn't what he _ actually _said in High Valyrian that night… but it meant the same thing, essentially. He surprised even himself, when the words left his mouth, but at the same time, he didn't want to stress over the slip up too much... He figured she should know, and in a moment of strength -or perhaps it was weakness- he exposed his heart.

Her eyes softened before she enclosed his body in her arms, holding on tightly. He embraced her in return and sighed deeply, relieved. _ She’s okay. She’s going to be okay. _ “Petyr, it’s alright.” She hushed into his shoulder as she pulled away from him.

_ Were his hands shaking? _

She held them in hers, steadying them. It turns out they were.

“I’m here, Petyr. It’s okay.” She reassured him, reaching up to brush at his cheeks._ Was he crying, too? _ “Shh… Look at me.” His face was brought up by both of her hands, so their eyes met. And yes, he must have been crying -Or _ was _crying- because his vision was so blurred that he could barely make out her expression.

But her eyes were still her eyes: still blue and still unbearably beautiful.

“See? I’m alright now.”

He nodded before his forehead fell to her shoulder and he embraced her again. He just needed to hold her. Needed to be held by her. Needed to feel and taste and love. Needed her. Needed her. Needed _ her. _

“What happened, Sansa?” He asked, dreading the answer. Had she truly done this to herself? Or was there hell to pay?

They broke apart again so she could look at him properly. Her expression was troubled: conflicted. “I’m not sure, really.” She admitted. “I was walking around that garden… The one that some people call a maze because of its twists and turns. And then I came across an opening with a pool. It was beautiful and I remember being drawn in. It felt magical, I don’t know. But then when I got close enough I saw something floating and when I realized what it was, what _ they _ were… _ Who _ they were…” She shivered, and he reached for her hand.

“I guess I was just in shock and I fell in the water. I remember feeling like it was pulling me in: like the pool wanted to swallow me whole. It was terrifying. Then suddenly there was a layer of ice blocking my escape, or maybe it was always there… I… I don’t know.” She inhaled shakily. “When I finally broke the surface of the water, I was pushed back under. I was so sure someone was holding me down, Petyr. I was so sure of it. But eventually when I managed to turn myself around, I could still feel the hands holding me under, but I couldn’t see anyone above me. No one was there. So I-” Her bottom lip trembled. “I don’t know if I imagined it all or… Or _ what _…”

Petyr took a long moment to digest it all. Only one thing came to his mind, which then immediately led to his lips without consent. “So you didn’t do it on purpose?”

Her face dropped. “Oh, no! Petyr, god's no!”

He closed his eyes, deeply relieved. When he opened them again, she was reaching for him. He kissed her a second time, not knowing if this show of affection would last beyween them or if she was only doing it in spite of what had happened; either way he wanted to relish in it while he could.

“I really don’t know what happened, Petyr. I could have sworn someone was holding me down. But no one was there. So maybe because of the cold water and lack of oxygen and the shock of seeing my family like that… Maybe I did imagine it. Maybe I subconsciously did it to myself, but I didn’t mean to.” She held his hand with her’s. “I don’t want to die.”

“Good.” He rasped out, feeling the heat and pressure of the emotion rising in his throat.

They were quiet for a long time, both trying to read the other. Both taking comfort from the other. “I’m sorry I scared you so much.” She added as a whisper. He shook his head as if to say _ ‘no, come on, what do you have to apologize for?’ _ or _ ‘that is nothing compared to the things I did to you’ _ or _ ‘don’t apologize for almost dying’. _

“I’ll take care of their bodies: your family. We can have a memorial service. You can say goodbye.” He offered. “And I’ll find out who put them there. Whose idea it was. Who helped. Who knew about it. They’ll all be executed.”

“Cersei.” Sansa gritted through her teeth.

“What?” Petyr asked, bending his head down to get a proper look at her.

“It was Cersei. When we were leaving King’s Landing she told me about the pool. She said I should investigate. She said it was a beautiful place to read. She did this.” Sansa declared, fists clenching in anger.

“That would actually make sense.” Petyr told her, catching her attention. “She would be the one person that would have access to all their bodies.”

Sansa looked down and an odd expression crossed her face. A sad one. "Petyr, I need to know about Arya. And I need to know now." She stated, giving him a hard look. He looked down, considering her request. "She's the only family I have left beside Jon and he's on the wall. I need to know."

"Very well." He gritted out, sighing. "I can't tell you everything, because it's sensitive and if the wrong person finds out, she could be killed." He warned, and she seemed to be okay with that, for she simply nodded for him to continue.

"She's in the Vale with your Aunt Lysa and cousin Robin." He confessed truthfully. Sansa's eyebrows rose in surprise. "They both know who she is, but she's hiding under a different name for anyone else that asks. She's doing something important for me, but she's safe. As long as she does her job properly, she'll remain safe."

"And what job is that?" She probed further.

"I can't-"

"Petyr."

"All I can say is that she underwent extensive training in Braavos and she's putting that to use now." Petyr said quietly, barely above a whisper.

Sansa nodded slowly. "Okay." She paused. "And what do you hope comes out of it? Whatever she's doing for you."

He licked his lips, contemplating his answer. "I need an army to take back Winterfell for you." He said evenly. "Your sister can get that for me -for us- and for herself."

"Alright." Sansa said slowly.

"Sansa," he said gently. Her baby blues found his gaze and he felt something deep within him, warm. "I'm going to kill them for what they did. Cersei and Joffrey. For what they did to you and your family."

For all the things he thought she would say: _ that won't solve anything, won't bring them back, that's wrong -evil. _ It wasn't what he got. She opened her mouth and simply asked: "How?"

The corner of his lips twitched upwards. "Plans are already in action to rid the world of Joffrey. I'll work on my plan for his mother."

"No." She said without room for argument.

_ Here it is… _

"I want to do it with you."

"What?" He asked in surprise.

"Plan. I want to be involved." She stated. Again, it sounded non-negotiable. As if he would argue. As if he wouldn't love the idea of planning a murder with her. As if his cock didn't twitch in excitement at the prospect. Corruption was glorious. Corrupting someone as pure and innocent as Sansa Stark -No- _ Baelish _, was even more attractive.

"Then involved, you will be."

She smiled genuinely, happy by his response. "Thank you, Petyr." She said quietly, looking down at her lap.

He tilted his head to the side. "For what? Letting you be a part of my murder schemes?" He asked jokingly, but she remained serious.

"I remember everything that happened yesterday… How you said that you saved my life." She stated, much to his surprise. "Was all that true?"

Petyr's bottom lip curled upwards between his teeth as he considered how to reply. "It was true. One of the servants saw you through the window." He started. "I ran out and found you in that pool. You were… you were lifeless and freezing. You looked _ dead. _" He paused, knowing he had already rehashed most of it to her yesterday.

"I thought you were dead." He whispered, mostly because he didn't trust his voice not to break if he spoke at a louder decibel.

She looked down at his hands, reaching across to take one. That's when she noticed the rings. She smiled, genuinely, and the sight warmed his heart. He knew in that moment that he'd done _ something _ right.

She was quiet for a long moment as she inspected the band around her finger, and then began to fiddle with the band around his, as well. Then her baby blues made their way to his viridescent eyes and she searched them.

"Do you really love me?" She asked, showing no emotion; no clue as to where her head and heart were at, in the moment. Petyr felt uneasy not being able to read her.

He swallowed the thick ball of emotion down his throat so he could speak. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. It was hard to lay himself out there, his heart on the line. The last time he did that… years and years ago… it was trampled on: crushed into a million pieces.

His eyes dropped to her pink, plump lips and he decided to answer her through actions instead of words. He leaned forwards, making his intention clear, but the hand holding his pulled away to press over his heart, keeping him at a distance. He looked down, embarrassed, as his heart thumped wildly against his chest. Rejection was a bitter, bitter pill that sat heavily in Petyr's stomach.

"I asked you a question." She said simply, looking determined.

"I do." He croaked out finally. "Yes, of course I love you."

"How am I supposed to know that isn't another lie?" She asked. He licked his lips nervously. He knew this was an important part in their relationship. This was, perhaps, a tipping point. He needed to answer correctly; he needed to answer truthfully.

"When I first met you…" He started, picturing her clearly in his mind. "You were wearing a pale purple dress with a matching shawl and fabric roses stitched around the collar. Your hair was half up, braided." He worried at his bottom lip. "I'm not sure when I fell in love with you, but I _ do _ know when I realized it."

He prepared himself for this next part. It wasn't easy to remember how she looked in that pool.

"Over the last two days… I've been worried sick. I've realized what's important to me and what I can't live without. You make me want to be better, _ do _ better." He paused, a nervous ball forming in his stomach. "When I saw you like that… when I thought I'd lost you… I felt dead myself. Everything seemed pointless at that moment. What was the purpose of the grass, if you weren't sitting in it? My books, if you weren't reading them? The sunset and the sunrise, if you weren't watching them? The oxygen, if you weren't breathing it?"

Her eyes glassed over and the corners of her lips curved upwards into a gentle smile.

"I don't know how to prove my love to you. And I know I've lied too many times to ask for your trust. And I'm not a good man, but I'll try to do good by you. I promise you, I'll try."

Then she kissed him, and Petyr relaxed under her lips. He relaxed for the first time in what felt like weeks, possibly years, if he were being honest. It was gentle… passionate and meaningful. He thought about touching his tongue to hers but he didn't want to push her too far. So instead, he held her close.

The fact that she didn't say it back, didn't pass him. And it hurt, of course, but he knew how she felt. If she didn't love him, she would never have been so conflicted and hurt by what he'd done. She just wasn't ready yet. Ready for what, he wasn't sure. Ready to say the words? Ready to allow him into her life in that way again? Ready to expose her heart again? It didn't matter. She was alive and well and that was _ all _ that mattered.

Their lips stayed connected for what felt like hours. Hours, that they held each other close and showed their love through endless amounts of kisses.

The maester came in at some point, making Sansa blush as she pushed Petyr's needy lips away to speak with the man looking incredibly uncomfortable at the end of their bed. He was overjoyed with the return of her memories as well as the rest of her condition. Her fever had gone down substantially and her cognitive and decision making skills also seemed perfectly fine.

Petyr forced her to rest for the remainder of the day, bringing her anything she could need. She was queasy trying to eat anything, but Petyr had a lemon cake made for her anyways… to try and get her spirit up. And, bless her soul, she forced herself to eat half of it just to keep from hurting his feelings.

And later on in the evening, he read to her. A bit of poetry and a bit from the collection of stories she had been reading. She listened intently the entire time, occasionally touching his hand, holding it, and playing with the rings they now both owned. It was a good day for their relationship, and Petyr really felt as if they made some progress.

He hadn't kissed her since right after she woke up, because he wasn't sure where her boundaries stood just yet and he didn't want to breach them. Things were finally going well between them again and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it. But every part of him was just_ itching _to taste her.

She held his hand as they laid in bed together, caressing the back of his knuckles with her thumb as she listened to his deep baritone fill the room, retelling long-forgotten stories.

Suddenly, thoughts of Cersei filled his mind as rage filled his heart. He needed to find a way to kill her, and kill her viscously. He needed to get justice for Sansa. He needed-

"Petyr?" His head snapped in her direction. Had he stopped reading?

He cleared his throat. "Sorry, sweetling." He tried to find the spot he left off on, before he eventually gave up. He stood from the bed, feeling flustered. "I-I should be planning. I shouldn't just be laying here. There's work to do, things to get in order, people to contact. I have to-"

Sansa moved onto her knees and placed a hand on either side of his face, pressing her lips against his. His body stilled, face showing surprise when she pulled back.

"The most important place for you to be right now is here with me." She told him firmly, flattening her hand down his chest. A spark of desire shot through him, but he suppressed it. "A husband should be with his recovering wife, don't you think?" She was teasing him, her smile cheeky.

He allowed a smile of his own to surface as he looked down at her, his hands moving to rest on her waist. "Alright, my darling. If that's what you desire."

She rolled her eyes a little, moving away from him to settle back on the bed. "Take your boots off and come here."

_ Really? _ Petyr wanted to ask, like a little boy. _ Do you really want me? _ He didn't ask, somewhat scared that she'd change her mind. He bent down instead to remove his clunky boots. When he stood straight again, he removed his belt and tunic, but left his breeches on. Slowly he sank onto the bed, allowing his wife to drape the covers over his body.

He hesitated for a moment, before reaching for her and pulling her into his arms, against his body. She happily complied, her face finding a home in the crook of his neck and her legs intertwining with his. And it felt _ good. _ It felt good to hold her and be held by her. It felt good to have her body pressed against his.

His desire sparked again, and again he tried to suppress it. Gods, did he love her. His arms tightened around her body, pulling her even closer in the dark of the bedroom.

"Please don't let go, Petyr." She whispered into his neck, the heat of her breath arising goosebumps down his arms.

"Never, sweetling." And he meant it. He would hold her for the rest of his life if she let him. And gods, he hoped she'd let him.

He moved one hand up to her cheek and eased her to pull back a little so he could look at her. When their eyes met, he smiled. "Can I kiss you?" He asked, like he promised he would.

She blushed, glancing down at his lips before finding his eyes again. She nodded, and he immediately claimed her lips with his in a gentle kiss. It felt so good to have her with him again. To be able to kiss her when he wanted to and love her without restraining himself or hiding his feelings. She knew now, so there was nothing to hide at this point.

He closed his eyes as he held her and he had one of the best sleeps of his life. He just hoped she felt the same.

* * *

Sansa woke with a start, her arm immediately sliding up to Petyr's pillow. When she found it empty, she turned her head to figure out where he was.

There was a cold breeze blowing in through the balcony door, sending the drapes billowing out in a rhythmic sort of dance.

Groggy, she made her way out of bed, making an attempt to fix her hair as she did. She found Petyr's oversized robe, the one she wore back in King's Landing when she tried to seduce him, and she slung it around her shoulders, tying it around her body to stay warm as she approached the open doors. At this point, she could see him; his back was to her, elbows resting on the railing as he leaned over and admired the frozen ground beneath him.

He mustn't have heard Sansa as she came near, because when her arms slid around his torso, he flinched in surprise before relaxing again.

"Goodmorning, my love." He greeted, voice husky from sleep and lack of use. He laid a hand over hers, which were connected at his belly.

"You're up early." She commented, taking in his fully dressed appearance. He had even gotten ready for the day. It was dawn, the sunrise lighting the sky a pale pink.

He turned around, then. A gentle smile on his handsome face. His arms wrapped around her waist, so their lower halves were pressed together firmly.

"I woke up shortly before dawn and couldn't bring myself to fall back asleep again." He explained, as his eyes searched her face. He looked so… happy?

He dragged his knuckle down her round cheek before a gentle finger brushed back some of her hair. He shook his head, suddenly, almost disbelievingly.

"You are _ so _ beautiful." It came out as a whisper, a rough rasp. It was reverberant. That was how she knew the amount of meaning and emotion he put behind it. That, and look in his eyes. They were more green than she'd ever seen them. And he didn't look like he was hiding anything, or masking his expressions. He was just… being open; it was a strange concept to swallow. A new part of him to get used to. Though she liked this part more than any other.

Sansa's cheeks heated, despite the chill from the outside. She smiled up at him, laying her head on his shoulder and pulling him in closer. He smelt familiar, safe: his own Petyr musk, mixed with mint and now the bitter sting of the cold air, too. But he was warm.

"Can you forgive me, Sansa?" He asked quietly, voice sounding hesitant… conflicted… concerned. He pet her hair gingerly as he waited for her to respond.

Could she? Has she already?

He always seemed so calm and collected, but she wanted to see how he really felt right now. So her hand moved up to rest over his heart as she pulled away from his warmth to look at him. If the violent thumping against her palm was any indication, he was anxious.

"I know I don't deserve it. And that I have a lot to prove to you and make up for, but I-" He inhaled deeply to steady himself, his chest expanding beneath her hand as he did so. "Do you think you could, in the future, truly forgive everything I've done to hurt you?"

"Yes, Petyr. Of course I can, if you show me that what you say is true…" She licked her dry lips as she held his gaze. "That you love me."

The right side of his mouth lifted into a side smile, before it dropped and he went serious again. "I do, Sansa."

She leaned forwards so her lips hovered over his. His mouth parted in anticipation, but she didn't close the distance. "Then _ show me." _

_ Such a tease _, she thought cheekily as she distanced herself again without kissing him. He deserved some light teasing after everything. His lips twitched in amusement as his eyes narrowed.

"And how would you like me to do that, my darling?" He drawled, teasing her right back. The naive part of her froze, realizing what she said and how it could have been perceived. Then she heard him chuckle and she relaxed once again.

"So not with my tongue in your cunt on a nightly basis, then?" He shot out, mischief clouding his green eyes.

Sansa gasped, slapping his shoulder as she shook the blush from appearing on her cheeks, to little avail. "Petyr!" She scolded in a hushed voice.

He smirked. "Personally I think that would be a very genuine and _ dutiful _method."

For a split second, the thought of being bold and agreeing, crossed her mind. And he must have seen that small conflict in her eyes, for his eyebrows shot up in surprise and his smirk widened.

"Oh?" He growled, voice rough. "I could start right now?" He asked as he pulled her tighter against his body.

Sansa's bottom lip found a home between her teeth as her eyes dropped down to stare at his chest, finding his eyes too dark for the moment. Did she want that? Was she okay with letting him have such power over her again? With giving her such pleasure again, considering the last time he did that for her? She figured she needed to begin attempting to trust him again somehow, so why not this way?

It couldn't hurt to agree to this just _ once _ ** _, _ **could it?

"Sansa," his voice had lowered in volume. Her eyes dragged back up to meet his. "If you want that, you're going to have to ask me for it. Because I made you a promise, remember?"

She did.

"Petyr…" She started, feeling embarrassed. "Could you… maybe… just this _ once…" _

His smile was truly Cheshire.

"My pleasure, sweetling." He rasped as he swung forward to capture her lips with his own. He gave her a few smacking kisses before trailing his mouth around her jaw and then down her neck to her chest, where he began untying and pushing the robe from her shoulders.

"Shouldn't we_ -Mm- _ go inside?" She asked, feeling nervous as he fell swiftly to his knees in front of her and began gathering the material of her cream shift in his hands.

"No." Was his simple reply as he bent his head beneath her skirts and trailed wet kisses up her thighs.

It felt so good, Sansa didn't find an opportunity to complain about the cold or the fact that they were in view of anyone that wished to take a stroll through the gardens or even the stables beyond that. Her only saving grace was the hour… surely it was far too early for anyone to be awake, let alone out in the cold, right?

She forgot about all forms of decency and decorum when his fingers hooked her underthings and yanked them down her legs, allowing a coldness to attack her most private areas. Not for long, however, as his mouth was on her in seconds.

"Ahh," she gasped, resting one hand on the railing in front of her and the other on the bulge of her shift where his head was.

"Petyr, _ gods…" _ She sighed, eyes closing as he lapped at her like a dog. He had her one leg hitched over his shoulder as he feasted on her, both hands pulling her harder against his mouth, accommodating the rocking sensation of her hips.

She bit her bottom lip to hide the worst of her noises, still worried about someone catching them. She blushed at the sounds he was making beneath her skirts, the suction sounds and soft groans… If anything she found it sexy; it was urging her orgasm on… bringing her closer…

And then suddenly her vision spotted and the world spun violently. "Petyr! Petyr stop, stop!" He was standing before her in seconds, his eyes wide with alarm.

"What's wrong? Did I do something to-"

She didn't wait for him to finish before she reached for him, needing his stability. "Light headed." She mumbled into his chest, trying to fight the ache in her head. He made a sound of understanding before bending down to scoop up her legs, carrying her inside to lay her down gracefully on the bed.

"Water?" He asked as he crossed the room to the pitcher of water Adaline had brought up yesterday at some point. He poured her a glass and then brought it back over to her. She gratefully accepted it, and drank back all of it.

"Are you okay?" He asked firmly, a high level of concern laced in his voice.

She nodded, reaching for his hand and bringing it to her lips. "Thank you, anyways." She said gently, referring to the kiss he was giving her earlier.

He smirked again. "I could finish you still, if you want?" She smiled genuinely, but shook her head. His smirk faded quickly. "Was it not pleasurable?"

"Oh, no, Petyr of course it was!" She assured him, squeezing his hand. "I just don't want to push it anymore. I fear I may pass out completely if you pull me over the edge."

The smirk returned again. "So you're saying…" He drawled, expression cocky. "It was _ so good _, that you're worried for your health."

Sansa rolled her eyes, but didn't object to his assessment. It was true, after all. "Sure, love." She replied flippantly, just to get on his nerves.

It worked. His eyes narrowed into a playful glare as he leaned closer. He stopped when his breath fanned against her lips. "Kiss me, sweetling." He whispered, sending an electric shock of pleasure down her spine. "One more time."

And she did, happy to finally have a good, open relationship with him. They both took what they wanted and said what they wanted, when they wanted it. And that was all she really wanted from the beginning.

He grinned down at her as he pulled away. "I'm going to start working… lots of plans to get in order." He told her as he straightened his back and gestured towards his solar.

"No, wait! You said we could do that together." She reminded him, worried now that he was backing out of their understanding.

"And we can, my love. But you need to rest and this can't wait forever. As soon as you're feeling up to it, you can join me, alright?" He reassured her, resting his hand on her shoulder, warming it.

"No, I'm alright now. Let me sit in there with you. Please, Petyr." She asked, desperate to be let in on his arrangements.

He seemed reluctant, sighing a little, but he agreed eventually. "Alright, darling. Fine. But take it easy, okay?"

"I promise." She smiled, reaching for him so he could help her stand.

She couldn't help but wonder if this would last. If this peaceful, loving relationship would be her new reality?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some fluff.


End file.
